The City Ruinous
by awilliamsbbc.98
Summary: Peter, Edmund and Lucy are prepared for some form of mischief when they accept an invitation to a giant's feast. They are not prepared for a dangerous plot, a mysterious, scheming woman, and a deadly trap. Golden Age story, Book and Movie Canon compliant. Rated T for some violence. Also, let me know what you think of my cover art!
1. In The Councils of Kings

**Well...I'm quite surprised at myself. I had planned to wait awhile before beginning my next multi chapter story and instead focus on "Crownless", which is more a collection of connected one shots than it is a proper story, but here I am! I got the idea for this story while listening to the Focus on the Family Radio Theatre Productions of the Narnia books and then couldn't quite get it out of my head. I guess I'll see where it goes; I hope you all enjoy!**

Once there were four children named Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy. It has been told in another story, and by a far better writer than I, how these four fell out of our world and came into another land called Narnia. In Narnia, they defeated an evil Witch, freed the land from her enchantments and reigned for many years as kings and queens in Narnia. Their reign became known as the Golden Age of Narnia and they were beloved by their people, for they were wise and kind rulers, great in council and in battle. But their reign was not always peaceful, and this is the story of something that happened in Narnia, in the fourth year of the Golden Age, which greatly disrupted the peace for a time and became even more important a great deal later on. This particular event was long remembered as one of the few times High King Peter was not the one among his siblings to react rashly through anger; for though Peter was called "The Magnificent" he was known to be swift in anger and terrible in battle when enemies threatened his land. But that is getting ahead of where our story really begins.

* * *

"Giants?" Lucy quite forgot her queenly poise in the excitement she felt at being invited to a great feast at a Giant's castle. Susan, who was far too proper to forget herself so easily, gave her sister a warning glare. The four monarchs were seated around a small council table, most of which was obscured by a gigantic roll of beautifully written parchment.

"I'm not entirely sure we should go," said Peter, examining the enormous invitation carefully. "At least not the three of you. It's a frightfully long way away and I don't feel right leaving Narnia unprotected so the four of us can go galivanting off to a feast."

"Yes, but I really think we ought to go, or at least you and I ought to, Peter," this from Edmund who looked very grave indeed, as if they had been invited to a council of war and not to a feast. "These northern giants are a great deal different from the ones we have here in Narnia and I've a feeling we don't want to offend them."

Susan pursed her lips and crossed her arms stubbornly. "Well I certainly don't want to go. It's nearly winter and I don't fancy traipsing across Ettinsmoor with snow threatening all the while. I don't believe Lucy should go either."

"But Susan! Surely one of us should go? Mightn't the giants be offended if both Narnia's kings attend with their warriors and a great show of force and the queens don't? Won't it seem like we don't trust them?" Lucy turned a pleading look towards Peter. "Please? Surely my going wouldn't do any harm?"

"She's got a point about it being a show of trust," Edmund added helpfully. "I don't think we should trust them, but it might be better if they think we do. That way, if they mean mischief they won't expect us to discover it and they'll be less cautious."

"If you think they might mean mischief then you really shouldn't go!" Susan countered sharply, her temper flaring. The usually gentle queen had been in a foul mood ever since the previous week when an ambassador from Telmar had attempted to buy her hand in marriage from Peter. The ambassador, of course, was quickly sent home empty handed, but the whole incident had left those involved rather more inclined towards suspicion.

Edmund rolled his eyes and seemed about to respond with a snappish comment when Peter decided at last that he had heard quite enough. "Don't get started arguing again, if you do we will never decide what to do. Lucy, sit down and do try to compose yourself; if we do go it will be far less like a holiday than you imagine. Susan, don't snap at Edmund like that, he's only trying to be sensible. And Edmund, really, you must try to stop thinking the worst of every invitation we receive. It's quite possible they are simply trying to be friendly and mean no mischief at all." That shut them all up rather effectively and Peter took a moment to feel rather satisfied by that fact.

"Now then," he said after a moment. "I suppose you're all right to some extent. We must go it seems, but if Susan will agree to stay here and take charge of ruling while we are gone I see no reason why Lucy shouldn't accompany Edmund and I as a show of faith."

Lucy clapped her hands together in delight. "Oh Peter! Thank you! I am so longing to go on an adventure again; it's so dreadfully dull learning to be a proper queen!"

Peter smiled indulgently at his youngest sister. "I dare say it may be nothing like you imagine, do try not to be too disappointed if this turns out to be dreadfully dull as well, Lu." But Lucy's eyes were shining and her enthusiasm was not to be dampened. She leapt to her feet, kissed Peter on the cheek, and dashed off at once in a flurry of skirts, much to Susan's chagrin.

"Lucy! Come back here at once! Lucy, you've forgotten your slippers!" But Lucy was already long gone and Susan shook her head. "Really, I don't know what's gotten in to her; she used to at least try to behave properly."

Peter and Edmund shrugged and exchanged confused looks; neither could quite see what was so improper about Lucy running through the castle in her bare feet. "You will be alright, won't you Su? Running the kingdom by yourself, I mean?" Peter asked quickly, trying to distract her from the problem of Lucy's abandoned slippers.

Susan smiled fondly. "Of course, I will, who do you think managed affairs last year when you and Edmund rode out hunting the remnants of the Witch's army?"

Peter grinned a trifle sheepishly. "That's a fair point, dear sister. But last year we weren't so beset by suitors seeking your hand in marriage."

Susan's expression darkened. "It certainly is nice to have two protective and heavily armed brothers present to suitably terrify anyone who dares press their suit too fiercely, but you forget that I too am armed should the need for force arise." Her eyes flashed dangerously; Susan might despise the very thought of war, or of taking a life but that did not mean she was incapable of doing so.

"And what of you, brother?" Peter turned to Edmund, who had grown rather more silent and thoughtful then he usually was. "Do you feel able to undertake such a journey with winter coming on apace?"

Edmund scowled more fiercely than Susan, which Peter would have deemed impossible moments before. "I'm not a child, Peter! I am perfectly capable of traveling in winter, whether I like to or not has no part in my decision. Sorry," he added a moment later. "I know you meant well by it."

Peter nodded and tried to force the persistent headache behind his eyes to abate. _Giants! Why must every simple invitation become a diplomatic ordeal? And this one with giants no less._ "Very well then, I will speak with Orieus and we shall leave on the morrow."

Susan rose, collected Lucy's slippers, and glided gracefully from the room, doubtless in search of her wayward sister. Edmund looked about to follow her when Peter called after him. "Edmund, a word?"

Edmund sighed, glowered at his brother and stayed where he was, his face half hidden in the shadow of the doorway. "Yes?"

"Are you sure you'll be alright? I'm really not questioning whether or not you are capable, only if it is entirely wise for you to come with me." Peter half expected his brother to fly into a rage or alternately to remain sullenly silent. Instead Edmund sighed and rubbed a hand across his face wearily, his expression may have been in shadow but there was no hiding the exhaustion in his movements. Winter always brought nightmares and sleepless hours for the Just King.

"Look here Pete, we both know I hate winter and we both know why, but I don't cease to be a king of Narnia just because it might snow. If anything, that's when I must become more a king of Narnia. Don't worry about me; I'll manage. It would be far less wise to go without me. We both know I'm the diplomatic one and you're the one who goes charging into battles without a plan." Peter thought he heard a hint of amusement in Edmund's voice, though his expression remained grave.

"Are you expecting it to be a battle? We are being invited to a feast, not a council of war."

"It's best to be prepared for any contingency, at least," he added with a smirk, "That's what my tutors are always telling me."

Peter smiled and left it at that; after all, it was no use arguing with Edmund once his mind was made up.

* * *

Far to the north, beyond the wilds of Etinsmoor in the great city of the Giants, the Giant king sat, surrounded by his councilors. He was a rather enormous giant; far taller than his gentler cousins found in Narnia and far wiser than the dumb and brutish giants of the lower Ettinsmoor.

He smiled at his comrades, but it was a rather nasty smile, and asked in a voice louder than thunder; "Well? Will the Narnian Kings and Queens attend me? What say you, my lady?"

A rather tiny person, in comparison to the Giants surrounding her, the lady in question stood, the folds of her dress rustling with the movement, and curtsied to the king. "My lord," she answered in a lilting, musical voice, "It is my belief that none so arrogant and self-assured as they could fail to do so. The Narnians are a trusting people, though rather lacking in intelligence. They will believe themselves honoured beyond measure and will heed not the trap you lay for them until it has sprung closed upon them. Besides, these four are but children, fair and kind children by all accounts, but children none the less. What child could bear refuse the chance to be honoured beyond all others? Thy wit for planning, dear king, is unparalleled in all this world beneath you." And she smiled, her eyes shining green as poison.

The king laughed, well pleased with her flattery, and the whole of his great hall shook with the force of it. "Then let us be well prepared to welcome our most royal guests!" His councilors added their deep, booming laughs to his and the whole earth seemed to quake.

 **Extra points if you know who the lady is; you got a bit of a hint! A tiny one though, I don't want everything to be too obvious. As usual I apologise for grammatical and punctuation errors, I'm always in a bit of a rush to post and often miss things. Leave me a review and let me know what you think of this first chapter and the general idea! Thanks for reading, until next time.**

 **Cheers,**

 **A**


	2. Upon the Northern Moors

**I am very excited by the wonderful reviews to the first chapter! You are all wonderful! Unfortunately midterms are fast approaching for me, my university is on the quarter system, so updates may be fewer and further between in the next two weeks. I will still try to post frequently, but it probably won't be daily for awhile. I still don't own Narnia...bummer.**

The weather was beautiful the morning of their departure. The sun rose, glistening from the Eastern Sea, and the air, though brisk, was not unpleasantly cold. Peter was the first of his siblings to arrive in the courtyard, though he found Orieus already present and waiting for him with a very grim look.

"Orieus," he nodded in greeting to his general. The centaur stamped his hooves, a sure sign of some impending doom.

"Your royal brother has informed me that I am to be left behind, I trust you have no part in this foolishness, your majesty?"

Peter winced and wished he could honestly say he had no part in it. "On the contrary, Orieus, it was at my command that Edmund told you to remain behind. Someone must be here to guard Cair Paravel and offer assistance to our royal sister if needed."

"High King, I must beg your leave to speak my mind plainly." The Centaur shifted his weight uneasily, eyes blazing.

Peter sighed. "How many times must I tell you; please speak your mind plainly in all things. I value your honest opinion above any formality you feel you owe me as your king."

"Then, High King, I must tell you that this is the epitome of foolishness. To leave me behind not only endangers you and your royal siblings, but places a great burden of guilt upon me should any harm befall you in my absence. Have I caused you offense, High King, that I should be left behind like a common guard?"

Peter smiled fondly, wishing, not for the first time, that all his guards shared his general's dedication. "Orieus, take it not as a sign of offense that I entrust you with the protection of that which is most dear to me. There is no one else I would trust to guard Queen Susan and aid her in the protection of Narnia in my absence and that of my royal siblings."

Orieus inclined his head but still appeared uneasy. "Forgive me, King Peter, but what of your own protection? Who shall guard three of the four most precious to Narnia and her people?"

"Don't worry, Orieus," Edmund called, startling Peter who had failed to notice his presence. "I'll keep him out of trouble." He clapped Peter on the back rather more forcefully than seemed necessary and grinned, seeming uncharacteristically cheerful for so early in the morning.

Orieus' mouth twitched with the faintest hint of a smile as he inclined his head to the other king. "King Edmund, I do not doubt your ability to protect your brother, merely the reach of your arm should the giants prove traitorous."

Edmund responded with a rather undignified snort and Peter bit his lip to keep from laughing at his expression of annoyance. Whatever response he wished to make they were saved from by the arrival of Lucy, Susan and a score of guards. Susan looked distinctly annoyed, Lucy was positively radiant, and the guards were giving both queens a wide berth.

"Lucy, please! You need to consider more carefully, surely it is not wise to leave all your ladies in waiting behind."

Lucy smiled radiantly at her two brothers, and ducked around Susan as the older queen attempted to tidy Lucy's messy golden curls. "Peter, please tell Susan it's ridiculous to bring ladies in waiting on an expedition across Ettinsmoor in autumn!"

Orieus quietly excused himself to speak with the captain of the guards, a satyr named Trebonius, and Edmund stifled a laugh. Peter threw his brother a desperate look. "You're the diplomat, Ed."

Edmund shook his head, still laughing silently. "You're the High King, Pete," he shot back, rather breathlessly. Peter turned to Susan with a feeling of doom.

"Look here Su, Lucy's right. They would only slow us down, and we'll want to be quick, especially to outrun the snowstorms on the way back. I'm certain we can manage without ladies in waiting." _What do ladies in waiting do?_ He wondered silently and made up his mind to ask Lucy at the first opportunity.

"Very well," Susan pursed her lips in annoyance. "But if you let her run wild you'll be the one I hold accountable. Lucy, you are a queen, not a wild ruffian, I trust you will behave with some semblance of decorum." She fixed a very fierce look upon her sister and Lucy had the good sense to look very serious as she nodded.

"Of course, I will, Susan, you needn't worry so much." Reluctantly she let her sister pull her hair up into a graceful knot at the base of her neck and allowed her to straighten her cloak. At last deeming her presentable Susan kissed her on the forehead and stepped back.

"Please do be careful, all of you." She smiled a little sadly, and Peter put an arm around her shoulders.

"Cheer up Su, it's not as if we're riding to war." He kissed her upon the brow and called for the guards to move out as a faun brought him his horse. Edmund whistled for Philip and was about to follow Peter when Susan pulled him aside and spoke quietly with him. Even straining his ears Peter could not hear what words passed between them but he saw Edmund's expression darken briefly before he nodded and rejoined the rest of the group.

"Everything alright Edmund?" Peter asked as the column began moving slowly through the gathering crowd of creatures towards the gates. Edmund nodded but offered no explanation and Peter thought it better not press the issue.

A very old faun joined them at the gates and fell into step beside Philip. Peter recognized him vaguely as Metelus, Edmund's tutor and nodded to him in greeting. As they made their slow way through the gates Peter could hear the old faun discussing something with Edmund in a low, serious tone and Edmund responded in kind. Curious Peter pulled his horse closer to Philip and leaned in to listen.

"What epitaph did the current king's predecessor cause to be cut into the stones above his tomb?" The old faun was asking.

Edmund seemed lost in thought for a moment before reciting; "Though under Earth and throneless now I be, yet while I lived, all the Earth was under me." Peter shivered despite the warmth of the sun. It was hardly a pleasant epitaph.

"Very good," Metelus praised and Edmund's face flushed, obviously pleased. "And how do these Giants regard themselves in comparison with their Southern cousins in Ettinsmoor, and with those in Narnia?"

Peter nudged his horse to the front of the column and Edmund's answer was lost in the clatter of hooves. He was glad beyond measure that it was Edmund and not he who had been placed in charge of diplomatic relations. It was too beautiful of a day to be spent in answering questions on the finer points of Giantish culture.

Lucy smiled at him as his horse fell into step beside hers, her hair already working itself free of Susan's graceful twist. "Lucy, what exactly do ladies in waiting do?"

His sister laughed. "You know, I haven't the faintest idea! Susan says they are here to help her and me, but I really don't need the help. We both managed quite well without them before Narnia." She urged her horse forward almost into a gallop and called back over her shoulder, "Come on Peter! Race you to the ford!"

He laughed and followed, later remembering that moment as the last he could recall being so completely carefree and happy for a very long time.

* * *

By the third day of their journey tempers were beginning to flare. The weather steadily worsened the further north they traveled and the strain began to show. The guards were restless and easily frightened by every movement or shadow beyond the ring of light thrown by their campfire at night. Edmund grew even more silent, speaking only in response to direct questions or to Metelus, and every morning dawned with him appearing more worn and haunted. Peter's heart went out to him; he knew his brother's grim mood came from the increasing cold and the flurries of snow that fell daily when they crossed into Ettinsmoor, but he feared insulting Edmund by inquiring after his health.

Only Lucy seemed unaffected by the change in weather and the moods of her companions. Her bright smile and quick laugh served to greatly cheer all in her presence and even Edmund smiled when Lucy rode next to him and spoke quietly of dances with the fauns in the woods and midnight explorations of the deep mines with the dwarves. Still, Peter found that as they traveled further into Ettinsmoor his worry for Edmund increased.

On the fourth day he pulled the tutor, Metelus aside, startling the old faun greatly. "High King, your majesty, have I offended you in some manner?" The poor tutor asked, shuffling his hooves and wringing his hands in distress. "His majesty, King Edmund, requested my presence on this journey, I hope I am not here against your wishes."

Peter sighed, frustrated as he always was by the fear many of Narnia's creatures still harboured from their days under the Witch's reign. "Not at all, Metelus, I am glad of your presence and merely hope to seek your counsel. It's Edmund you see, I'm rather worried for him and I had hoped he might speak to you of matters he does not wish to trouble me with."

The faun nodded gravely, still shuffling his hooves uncertainly. "Indeed, High King, I too worry for King Edmund's health. I fear he pushes himself too far, though it is scarcely my place to say so. These four days of our journey he has scarcely spoken save to request further information concerning these giants we go to visit. I fear he is uneasy about the nature of their invitation."

Peter nodded, unsurprised, and not finding the information particularly helpful save to confirm his own suspicions. He was prevented from speaking with Metelus further when one of the Talking Dogs bayed a sharp warning which was taken up by the rest of his pack. Covering his ears against the sudden din Peter pushed his way through the guards to the Dog's side.

"Peace, good cousin, what is it you have scented?" It took several moments but the Dogs quieted eventually, at least enough for Peter to hear what their leader had to say.

"Good King, there is a rider near!" The leader panted, tongue lolling to the side of his mouth.

"And that is cause for such alarm?" _Aslan grant me patience when dealing with those of Your creatures possessed of such excitable natures!_

The hound hung his head slightly. "Your majesty, the scent is very odd. I have smelled nothing like it in all of Narnia!"

Peter shook his head in frustration. "Do you not think that perhaps next time you should be less vocal in your warning? If this rider means us harm then they certainly now know our precise location."

The Dog looked so dejected by this statement that Peter almost felt guilty for his words. "It is well, good cousin, one rider can hardly pose much of a threat against so large a company." In fact, as Peter looked up towards the next hill he failed to see how this particular rider could do any harm at all.

A white horse was coming towards them across the moor and upon its back rode a great lady. Her long hair was the colour of polished copper and her dress was green as spring leaves. As she drew nearer and Peter looked upon her face he felt she must be the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

"Good day, travelers!" She called, and the beauty of her voice matched that of her face. "It is a merry party for such a dull and lifeless place!"

"Greetings to you, Lady!" Peter called, certain his face must be burning red. "Have you traveled far?" _Idiot!_ He berated himself silently.

The lady laughed and it as a lovely sound, like water running through a clear stream, or like a strain of music. "Not far, dear King, but swiftly! And I must travel swiftly onward, for I have business to the south. Go you and your fair companions to the feast in the Giants' city?"

"Aye, my lady." Peter could not help feeling disappointed that she was traveling south even as they traveled north.

The lady smiled at him and turned her horse's head southward. "Good day and safe travels, fair friends! May we meet again soon!" She called back as she continued her journey. Peter stared after her, a queer, fluttery feeling in his chest.

"By the Lion, I hope we may," he said quietly, unaware of Edmund and Lucy's confused expressions as they stopped beside him.

"Who was she?" Lucy asked curiously.

"I don't know, but I wish that we may meet again soon." Peter watched the white horse and the Green Lady disappear into the distance.

Edmund shivered, his expression uneasy. "I rather hope we don't, Pete. She gave me the queerest feeling of unease; something about her seemed terribly familiar." But Peter scarcely heard him and his expression remained fixed and distant even as they continued northward.

 **I'm sure everyone knows who the lady is now! If you don't that's fine too, but hopefully you all enjoyed this chapter! Leave me a review and let me know what you think so far! Also, this story is probably going to be my longest yet! Whoohoo!**

 **Cheers,**

 **A**


	3. Of Dogs and Giants

**So. Many. Words. Okay, maybe I'm slightly dramatic, but this chapter is where the story really starts picking up speed. I suggest reading through slowly because a lot happens in a short amount of time. If it makes no sense...well, let me know and I will revise, because it is supposed to make some sense at least, unlike a few of the chapters in King's Bane. That being said thank you all for your lovely reviews! I am always thrilled to find both new and returning reviewers! You are the best! Also, shame on you Peter! I was rather cross with him during one section of this chapter, but then I added some nice fluff too, so hopefully that makes up for it!**

"Peter? Are you awake?" Peter grumbled as he rolled away from the insistent voice. Had it been only a few hours earlier he had worried Edmund was not talking enough?

"I am now. What's wrong?" He reluctantly opened his eyes, blinking in the candlelight, and almost immediately forgot his annoyance. Edmund looked thoroughly miserable, cocooned in blankets from head to toe and still shivering in the cold air that drifted in beneath the walls of the tent. "Have you slept at all since we left the Cair?" Peter asked, rubbing the sleep from his own eyes and feeling rather guilty.

"What?" Edmund looked almost startled as he considered the question. "Oh, I'm not really sure; it's too cold to sleep very well. Listen, Pete, I'm worried about that woman we met on the moor."

Peter thought back to the stately lady and felt a hint of worry creep into his mind as well. "Do you think she's in danger, out there all alone, I mean? Do you think I should have sent some of the guards with her?"

His brother rolled his eyes in exasperation. "It isn't her safety I'm worried about. Didn't you notice anything odd about her?"

Peter tried to recall every detail of their all too short meeting. "She seemed very out of place in such a bleak land," he offered at last.

Edmund nodded. "That's what I was thinking."

"She belongs in a royal court, not wandering the moors alone. I wonder what her story is and what urgent business it is that drives her to travel alone in such a place and at such a time."

He completely missed the rather disgusted expression on Edmund's face. "That is definitely not what I was thinking. Peter, I'm telling you, there is something very unsettling about her. She seems familiar, like we've met her before."

With difficulty Peter restrained himself from throwing his pillow at his younger brother. "I think I would have remembered if I had met her before. Now for goodness sake, go to sleep!"

Edmund shook his head in defeat and blew out the candle. A moment later Peter heard the rustle of blankets followed by silence save for the sound of his brother's teeth chattering. Sighing Peter gathered up his own blankets and shuffled across the tent until he could lie down with his back against Edmund's and spread his own blankets over both of them.

He felt his brother's shoulder tense for a moment and knew that Edmund was debating whether he should punch him or simply accept the gesture of goodwill. "Peter, I swear if you start snoring I will throw you into the next snowdrift we find," he groused, but the tension left his shoulders and his shivering slowed and eventually ceased altogether. Peter himself was somewhat colder and less comfortable than he could have wished but it was well worth the discomfort to know that Edmund would sleep, at least for one night.

* * *

It was the music that woke him; strange, wild strains that pierced his dreams and continued, even as he woke. Peter blinked and looked around him; the light was strange, the odd, muted light of a very early morning before the sun has risen and the air was bitterly cold. Edmund was still asleep beneath the pile of blankets, and Peter cautiously untangled his own limbs and reached for his boots. The music continued, soft and compelling, as he slipped silently from the tent and out onto the frost covered moor.

He did not know how long he walked but eventually he came upon a cluster of trees near a crystal stream and beside the stream stood the lady they had met the previous day. It was she who had made the music, for in her hands she held a finely carved harp. She set the instrument aside gently as Peter approached and curtsied beautifully; he bowed, suddenly feeling very clumsy.

"Dear king! It is an early hour to be walking upon such cold and wild moors." She spoke with the same strange, musical accent as she had the day before and her smile was dazzling.

"I heard your music; you-you play beautifully, my lady," Peter stammered, feeling very foolish indeed.

She laughed and tossed her head; the rising sun glinted off her copper hair turning it to blazing red for the briefest moment. "Your majesty is too kind! It is but a simple and very old tune and played by one with little skill." Somehow Peter found himself standing so close to her that he could smell the faint scent of apple blossoms which seemed to cling to her hair. Her eyes were very green; as green as the fabric of her dress.

He was just opening his mouth to speak; to say he knew not what when-

"Peter!" Edmund's shout cut through the stillness of the morning and seemed to shatter it. Peter blinked, suddenly confused to find himself alone beside a stream. He turned to see Edmund and Trebonius, the captain of the guards, running towards him. "What the devil are you doing out here?"

Peter blinked again and shook his head, suddenly dizzy; his head was aching. "I-I'm not sure. I must have been sleepwalking." He looked back towards the stream and thought he saw a flash of green among the bare trees, but he couldn't quite remember why that should be important. "Let's go back to camp; it's freezing out here."

Edmund frowned in the direction Peter had been looking but he saw nothing and offered no argument. It really was freezing, and no one wanted to stand around on the moor in the dim light of dawn any longer than they had to.

All through that day Peter could not quite shake off the strange feeling that he had forgotten something and it made his temper unusually short. The rest of the party seemed just as affected, whether it was due to the cold or the High King's bad temper. When they stopped at midday to eat and rest their horses scarcely anyone spoke and even Lucy had ceased to smile.

Everyone was unreasonably cross and small quarrels and fights broke out quickly. Before they could set out again they heard a distant thudding sound which seemed to frighten everyone, especially the Animals. First the Dogs became so agitated that they began baying incessantly and would not stop to tell anyone why, and then the horses in the troupe, all save Philip who was far too clever and loyal to Edmund, became frantic and, breaking their tethers, scattered in every direction across the moor.

"SILENCE!" Peter bellowed, covering his ears with his hands and wishing he could so easily block out the nauseating headache building behind his eyes. The Dogs fell silent with a few whimpers and everyone else stopped where they were, some with weapons half drawn in alarm and others turning to pursue the horses. The distant thudding too had fallen silent. Every eye turned to him and Peter suddenly wished they hadn't; his head hurt abominably. "Please, everyone, remain calm. Dogs, what is the meaning of this cacophony?"

The pack leader, a sleek grey wolfhound, tilted his head as if trying very hard to understand. "If it please your majesty, what is cacophony?"

Peter nearly howled in frustration. "The level of noise you and your fellows were just engaged in certainly qualifies. Now, tell me, what is the meaning of this?"

The hound hung his head. "We scented something."

"And heard something!" A sheepdog offered helpfully.

"And what did I tell you not yet a full day past, good cousin?"

The Dog shifted his paws nervously. "That perhaps next time we did so we should be less vocal in our warning."

"Precisely; it seems there is nothing wrong with your memory, only with your ability to follow orders!" He turned away to find Edmund watching the exchange with an unreadable expression and immediately regretted his loss of temper, though he was not about to admit it. He was about to say something rather derogatory about the nature of Dogs when a rock sailed over his head and crashed into a tangle of heather and gorse a few feet in front of him.

Edmund's eyes widened in alarm and that was the only warning Peter had before the younger king tackled him, sending him crashing to the ground a split second before another rock passed through the space so recently occupied by his head. Edmund rolled to his feet and drew his sword. Peter rose with slightly less grace; though Edmund had undoubtedly just saved his life he was thoroughly winded by the impact with the stony ground. The earlier sound had returned and redoubled in volume as it drew closer. He blinked away the dancing specks before his eyes and at last saw the source of the rocky projectiles and of the noise.

A pair of giants were thundering towards them over the rough ground. Each carried an armload of rocks and both were tall as apple trees and terribly ugly to look at. These giants were nothing like their gentle Narnian cousins; their heads were misshapen lumps set atop thick necks and broad, twisted shoulders; their arms were far too long for the rest of their bodies, and their knuckles almost brushed the ground as they lumbered forward on their unevenly long legs. Peter might have laughed at the spectacle they made if they were not so actively engaged in hurling rocks towards the small group of Narnians.

"To arms!" Shouted Trebonius, rather unnecessarily. "Protect the kings and the queen!" With a sinking heart Peter met Edmund's eyes and realised they were both thinking the same thing.

"Where's Lucy?" Edmund shouted as another rock crashed into the ground a few feet away. The giants really did have the most terrible aim. Peter shook his head and frantically scanned the shifting mass of confused and frightened creatures for the glint of Lucy's fair hair. When he saw it, his heart sank further still; Lucy was darting through the guards almost unnoticed, but rather than running away from the giants she was running towards them. In the confusion of flying rocks, baying Dogs, shifting hooves, and thunderous footsteps Peter knew there was no chance she would hear him. There was little chance anyone else would either.

The giants were nearly upon them now, though they seemed to have run out of rocks. They hesitated, seeming confused by their sudden lack of weapons, before they stooped slightly and pulled up two saplings by the roots. The trees were taller than Peter and sturdy enough to make very serviceable clubs.

Peter shoved his way through the ring of guards, desperate to reach Lucy before she reached the giants. "LUCY!" He shouted her name until his throat felt raw but she seemed not to hear him above the general uproar. Out of the corner of his eyes Peter saw Edmund slip between two fauns and dart around to the side of the nearest giant. Peter himself was still too far away to be of much help and even as he pushed his way free of the ring of guards Lucy stopped before the giants and seemed to be calling out to them, as if attempting to reason with them.

"LUCY!" At last she heard him and turned her head, a slightly confused expression on her face. At that very moment the nearest giant swept his arm up, tree club in hand, as if to strike at Lucy. Then he shrieked and dropped the tree, flailing his arms wildly and howling in pain. As the giant's arm had swept by him Edmund leapt forward and caught it, stabbing him through the fleshy part of his forearm with his sword. The sword had caught between the two bones in the giant's arm and Edmund, unable to let go of the hilt in time, now found himself clinging to the giant's arm for dear life as he howled and flailed about. Inevitably he struck his companion in his frenzy and the two giants seemed to forget all about the Narnians in favour of brawling with each other.

Peter caught Lucy by the arm and pulled her away from the fighting giants, half shoving her at terrified Trebonius before turning back towards the giants. Edmund had somehow kept his grip, both on the giant's arm and the sword, though his face was ashen and Peter knew he could not hold on to either for much longer. No one seemed able to get close to the them; the force of their footsteps shook the ground like small earthquakes and anyone who came close near their balance and fell as the earth shook. Peter found himself sprawling on the ground staring up at the two giants as they grappled with one another.

"Edmund! Let go, you fool, you'll be killed!" But if Edmund heard Peter's shout he did not obey the order. He tugged determinedly at the hilt of the sword until at last it came free with a spray of blood. The giant howled in rage and pain and Edmund, whose grip was greatly loosened by this point, found himself tumbling through the air to land, winded and bruised, in a clump of heather.

The giants, who at this point were both terribly distressed by their injuries, began lumbering off, howling at the top of their lungs and shoving each other as they went. Peter scrambled to his feet at the same moment as Lucy broke free from Trebonius' hold and stumbled, shaken but unhurt, towards Edmund.

The king in question was already picking himself up, looking rather dazed and covered in blood. Lucy reached him first and threw her arms around his neck, nearly knocking him back over.

"I'm so sorry, Ed! I'm so sorry! I thought-I thought, maybe I could talk to them and explain that we were friends!" She sniffled and buried her head in Edmund's shoulder.

"It's alright, Lu," he said, rather breathlessly. "You couldn't have known it wouldn't work. These giants aren't like the ones we have at home." Lucy nodded, though she didn't raise her head.

Peter wasn't sure if he wanted to shout at them or hug them. He settled for putting a hand on Edmund's shoulder and wrapping his other arm around Lucy. "Are you alright?" He asked, directing his question at both of them, but hoping he made it clear by his tone that the question was more for Edmund.

Lucy nodded and Edmund smile wearily. "I wouldn't recommend being tossed around by a giant, but yes, just a few bruises."

Peter scowled skeptically. "You both could have been killed!" He wanted to be angry, but the relief he felt that they were all still alive took the force from his words.

Edmund grinned at him over Lucy's head and echoed what Peter himself was thinking. "But we weren't." His face paled as he gently disentangled himself from Lucy's embrace. "Although I think perhaps I should sit down."

Peter wrapped an arm around each of them as they stumbled back to the rest of the group, sending a silent prayer of thanks to Aslan. They were alive and for a moment the echo of the Green Lady's music faded from Peter's mind and his headache eased.

 **Love it? Hate it? Indifferent? If you answered yes to any of these questions leave me a review! :)**

 **Cheers,**

 **A**


	4. The Shadows Lengthen

**Apologies for the delay in posting; midterms are hell incarnate. Okay, I'm dramatic, but they do suck. Anyway, here's the next chapter; it is a bit of a filler chapter though it does provide some information which will be important later on. I still don't own Narnia.**

"Peter?" Peter looked over at his sister's timid question. They were seated around the campfire and everyone seemed terribly nervous. Lucy's eyes looked large and frightened in the firelight and Edmund, who was sitting close enough to the flames that his cloak was in danger of catching fire, had his head lowered so that the shadows hid both his expression and the dark bruise that covered the left side of his face. Peter was infinitely grateful for the shadows; he could almost imagine they were back at Cair Paravel, safe and warm beside the fireplace as long as he could not see the proof of Edmund's close call earlier that day.

"Peter?" Lucy repeated more insistently tugging at his sleeve.

"Hmm? Oh, sorry Lu, I was just thinking. What is it?" He tried to smile reassuringly but felt that it seemed rather forced.

"Do you think we should go back? If these giants who invited us are anything like the ones who attacked us earlier…" her voice trailed into silence but Peter knew very well what she meant. _If these giants are the same sort then we will all be dead._

"They aren't," Edmund stated quietly from the other side of the fire. "The Ettinsmoor giants are a very different type from those of Harfang, who invited us. The Ettins are largely unintelligent and brutish; the giants of Harfang are at the very least intelligent. That is no guarantee of virtue, but at least if they try to kill us it won't be with rocks and trees. We should be able to outwit them more easily than we could best them in battle." Peter and Lucy both stared at him in amazement and Edmund, sensing their gazes looked up and shrugged. "What? I've been talking with Metelus; it is my duty to know these things."

"Then what is your council?" Peter asked gravely. "Should we carry on with our journey or turn back and send our apologies on to Harfang?"

Edmund looked rather shocked at the question. "I-That's not my decision, Peter, you're the High King."

"And you are the one who actually bothers to learn about places before we visit them. I trust your judgement, Ed." Peter thought he saw Edmund's pale face flush slightly, but he could not be sure if it was with pride or embarrassment.

"I think we should go on. By all accounts these giants are a proud folk, and if we turn back now and refuse their invitation they are more likely to become troublesome. I don't see how we can turn back now."

Peter nodded. "Then it seems we must go on and face the adventure Aslan has in store for us."

Lucy nodded, a trifle grimly, though her eyes were still frightened. "I really am sorry though, about putting myself in danger and making you save me, Edmund. I never thought they would be hostile by nature." Her chin shook as she held back tears. Edmund put an arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head.

"Lucy, really, it's alright. It was brave of you to try talking to them, but in future, maybe avoid confronting things ten times your size?"

Lucy nodded shakily and laughed. "I will do my best."

Peter shivered and shifted closer to the fire, suddenly chilled by the thought of how close he had come to losing them both. _And I couldn't do anything to help. I would have been too slow._

A few large snowflakes drifted down from the leaden sky and the fire hissed as they melted. Peter was unsurprised when Edmund stood with a mumbled goodnight and disappeared into the tent the brothers shared. Lucy frowned after him, forehead creased in worry.

"Do you think he'll be alright?"

Peter found himself wishing that Susan were with them. She would be able to reassure Lucy while calming his own fears; she might even be able to help Edmund, somehow, she always seemed able to comfort him. Peter felt rather unequal to the task himself, but he forced a smile and hoped Lucy would not notice the worry in his own eyes.

"I'm sure he will be, Lu. Try to get some sleep and don't worry too much; I'll look after Edmund." _If only he would make it slightly less difficult,_ he added silently.

Looking after Edmund, as it turned out, was far less difficult than Peter had anticipated. He felt a moment of panic when he entered the tent and found Edmund's bedroll empty. A moment later he smiled; Edmund was curled up on Peter's bed, buried so far beneath the blankets that all Peter could see of him was his unruly dark hair. He blew out the candle and slipped under the blankets, his smile widening as Edmund shifted unconsciously closer to him. _Sleep well brother, may Aslan guard your dreams._

* * *

Music, hauntingly beautiful and heartrendingly sad, woke him. It was the hour before dawn again and the air was bitingly cold. His boots crunched on a thin layer of snow and frost when he stepped outside. The sentries were asleep, leaning against tents or their weapons, their heads drooping against their chests. Even the dogs were silent, curled into mounds of gently breathing fur with their paws tucked over their noses.

Ordinarily Peter would have scolded the guards for sleeping and roused the camp, but the gentle, dreamlike quality of the music kept him from feeling the alarm the circumstances would generally have caused him. He stumbled past the sleeping guards in a daze, scarcely stopping to wonder at their stillness. The music pulled him forward, out onto the still and snowy moor.

A flash of green caught his eye; the Lady with the harp! He opened his mouth to call out to her, quickened his steps to catch her; a hand fell on his shoulder and he started, jolted back to full awareness by the sudden contact. He turned, striking out blindly on instinct borne of years training under Orieus.

Edmund stumbled back in surprise, barely avoiding being knocked over by Peter's wildly thrown punch. "Peter! It's me!"

Peter blinked, confused and suddenly freezing. "Ed? What the blazes am I doing out here?"

His brother frowned, worry clearly overcoming his annoyance at almost being punched. "I would ask you the same thing. Are you taking up sleep walking now?"

There was something on the edge of his memory, something he couldn't quite grasp, and every time he tried it slipped further away. "I don't know. I have the strangest feeling that I wasn't asleep."

Edmund's scowl deepened. "You might not have been but everyone else was. We ought to send the lot of them home in disgrace for letting their High King go wandering out of camp while they slept instead of guarding."

"Everyone is asleep?" That sounded vaguely familiar and a sudden image of two fauns leaning against a tent with their chins resting against their chests flashed through Peter's memory.

"Yes, although I rather wonder if it isn't entirely their fault. It all seems rather convenient, doesn't it? All the guards fall asleep and you go wandering off onto the moor alone?" He shivered and pulled his cloak closer around his shoulders. "We should go back and try to wake them; if this was a trap it might still be dangerous."

Peter nodded, still dazed, and followed his brother back across the frozen moor. Whatever had happened it made little sense; no matter how hard he thought about it he could not remember why he had wandered out onto the moor. It was absurd to think he had been sleepwalking; Peter knew he had been perfectly aware of his surroundings, but he could not remember how or why he knew that.

The guards were still asleep when they reached the camp but the Dogs began to stir as they approached and in a moment, they were on their paws, yawning and wagging their tails. The rest of the camp was soon roused and all were equally ashamed of their lapse in duty. No one could quite remember falling asleep, but Trebonius thought he recalled hearing a strange, haunting strain of music. In fact, that was the last thing he could remember before an irate Edmund shook him awake.

"Music?" Edmund asked sharply, and Peter thought that too sounded familiar; the memory hovered, just out of reach.

"Yes, your majesty." The faun shifted his hooves and stared at the ground. "I didn't mean to sleep, truly, I didn't. I beg your forgiveness, your majesties; I will return to Cair Paravel and report my mistake to General Orieus at once," he added miserably.

Edmund looked rather inclined to agree with him, but Peter shook his head. "No matter, Captain; no harm was done and we trust you will keep better watch in future. Tell the rest of your company the same if you would." Trebonius nodded gratefully and hurried away, calling loudly to the rest of his guards as he went.

Edmund kicked at the ground crossly. "Really Peter, that's going rather easy on them, don't you think? If you'd stumbled upon a giant you could have been killed while that lot slept."

"But I didn't," Peter reasoned with a smile. "Besides, luckily for me you seem immune to whatever put everyone else to sleep."

"Luckily," Edmund muttered, glaring at the ground. "The sooner we get off this moor the better; there is some enchantment over this place."

* * *

Late in the afternoon they came to a great, arching bridge built across a gorge and after crossing it found a giant's road, paved with huge slabs of stone the size of wagons, winding away and upwards. It was obvious that neither the bridge nor the road could have been built by the brutish giants of Ettinsmoor and the spirits of everyone in the party lifted greatly at the sign of civilisation.

Lucy seemed to forget her fright of the day before and chatted happily with the guards; brightening the dull day with her merry laughter. Edmund, though still appearing weary and concerned for Peter, seemed to cheer slightly at the prospect of soon reaching somewhere out of the cold and the wind. Peter found himself in something of a daze as they traveled; he wished he could remember why he wandered out of camp; he wished he knew why he felt such a strange sense of longing when he thought of it, but no explanation presented itself. His thoughts wandered back to the Lady they had met and he wondered, not for the first or last time, when he would see her again. It did not seem strange to him how quickly she had become a part of his thoughts after a single meeting. If the thought had occurred to him he might have been suspicious and considered more carefully how his nightly wanderings began after they met the Lady. As it was he did not think of it.

That night Peter found, much to his annoyance if not surprise, that Edmund insisted on sitting at the entrance to their tent as a self-appointed guard. He tossed and turned this way and that, but sleep eluded him. At last he gave up and joined Edmund in his silent vigil.

"The whole point of me staying awake and keeping watch is so that you can sleep," Edmund remarked as he watched the shifting shadows on the side of the tent.

"Listening to your teeth chatter isn't very conducive to sleep," Peter said with a smile, hoping the attempt at humour would lighten the mood.

Edmund snorted in amusement. "At least you won't go wandering off and fall into the gorge."

They sat in silence, watching the shadow of the candle flame dance against the canvas. Peter shifted closer to his brother and wrapped an extra blanket around his thin shoulders, ignoring the glare directed at him as he did so.

"You're worse than Susan," Edmund growled, but Peter did not miss the hint of a smile that tugged at his mouth.

"Speaking of our dear sister, what did she tell you when we left Cair Paravel? It seemed to upset you." For a moment Peter thought Edmund would not answer, then he sighed and shrugged his shoulders.

"Nothing much, just to make sure that in watching your back and looking after Lucy I didn't forget to think of my own safety. She never seems to understand why I must put my safety last."

Peter nodded thoughtfully. "You know we've all forgiven you Ed, maybe you should try forgiving yourself."

Edmund shook his head sharply and pulled the blankets higher, half covering his face. Peter sighed and let him be; it was clear Edmund deemed the conversation over. Neither slept, but their silent vigil seemed to yield results, for no music called to Peter and when dawn came the guards were standing attentively at their posts, eyes wide open and weapons ready in their hands.

 **A little short and maybe slightly boring, but the action picks up next chapter with our company arriving at the giant's city; yes it is Harfang. To those of you who already knew that, well done! If you have a minute to drop me a review it would be much appreciated and many thanks to those of you who have already reviewed! You all make my days brighter!**

 **Cheers,**

 **A**


	5. A Grim Country

**Only one midterm left! Hurrah! Thank you for your lovely reviews; I always find them immensely inspiring! We are getting to the main plot of the story now! Finally; whew, this story is already almost half as long as my previous multi chapter stories and it is maybe only a quarter done! Still don't own anything except my computer and my books. Sadness.**

Peter and Edmund soon developed a sort of system for keeping watch that allowed them to both get a fair amount of sleep. Edmund agreed to sleep for the first half of the night while Peter kept watch and Peter agreed to sleep for the second with Edmund keeping watch. When Peter inevitably woke in the hour before dawn, called by the strange music and in danger of wandering to his death, Edmund would either try to startle him back into full awareness or, and this was more common, would follow him out onto the moors, alert for any danger and hoping to some morning discover what it was that called to Peter so irresistibly.

With Edmund following him Peter would wander aimlessly for a time before inevitably waking to remember nothing of how he came to be there or where he was going. Once, nearly a week into this strange pattern, Edmund though he saw a flash of green, like the swirl of a cloak or dress, upon the moor, but when he went to investigate he found nothing save a small, green snake. It looked up at him with jewel bright eyes and hissed, but it did not seem dangerous so he left it alone and returned to find Peter awake and bewildered.

Despite the nightly disturbances, the small company made good time on their journey and not two weeks after their departure from Cair Paravel they found themselves upon a hill overlooking a very different country. The high moors had given way to low, rocky hills which climbed steadily to dark, jagged mountains and stony gorges through which rivers thundered. It was a harsh, grim place, and no one particularly wanted to descend the hill into it, but now that they were there they had little choice.

Lucy smiled and pointed across the rugged landscape. "Look! I think we can see the spires and towers of the city from here!" They could indeed. Far across the dim expanse before them, right at the foot of a towering mountain, they could see jagged shapes, which at first appeared like smaller crags, but upon closer inspection revealed themselves to be the towers, spires, castles, and other great buildings of an enormous city. "At least we can see it now." Lucy offered, attempting to cheer the group.

Edmund said what they were all really thinking. "It's still a terribly long way off, I wouldn't count on us getting there anytime soon."

Peter glanced over sharply at him, worried by his tone but Edmund just shrugged as if to say; "What? It's true."

As it turned out he was right; they traveled on for days and scarcely seemed to draw any closer to the distant spires, though they did begin to meet other travelers, mainly giants, upon the road. As Edmund had predicted these were a very different sort from those of the lower Ettinsmoor. These giants were taller, though their footsteps were almost silent in comparison with their size, and their bearings, faces, and manners of expression were very like those humans. Many smiled and called out greetings as they passed, others laughed, as if at some merry jest, when they saw the group of Narnians, and still others, though these were fewer in number watched them silently with grim and forbidding faces.

All the giants they met seemed to have one thing in common; they were all positively charmed by Lucy. She smiled and called a cheerful greeting to everyone they met, and was always willing to strike up conversation if a giant slowed their steps long enough to speak with the party. She laughed at their jokes, some of which the Narnians found rather odd, listened attentively to their advice, and behaved in such a queenly manner that even Susan could have found no fault with her. Even the silent, grim-faced giants' expressions lightened when they saw Lucy and a few even smiled or bowed, though they remained far graver than the others.

Metelus explained one night that the grim-faced giants were those of noble birth, or at the very least higher class, than their merry counterparts. Those giants were likely the sort they would encounter most of at Harfang and everyone found themselves feeling very grateful that even these did not seem immune to the effect Lucy had on everyone.

Edmund and Metelus were the only ones who seemed to notice anything amiss in the giants' behaviour. On the fourth day after leaving the moors Edmund was walking, allowing Phillip to rest, next to old faun, near the back of the group, when he overheard a very odd thing. The group of giants Lucy had just been talking and laughing with began to cry. At first it seemed they were merely sad at losing Lucy's company as the party traveled onward, but then Edmund overheard a rather loud exchange between two of the ladies.

"It simply isn't fair!" The first was saying as she mopped her eyes with an enormous lacy handkerchief, nearly big enough to be a coverlet.

"Wasn't she simply lovely?" Responded her companion, blowing her nose loudly. "It's such a pity they have to go to the city!"

"Hush!" The first one warned. "If they hear us and suspect the King will have our heads faster than you can blink!" They peered down at the ground, obviously looking to see if they had been overheard and Edmund quickly ducked his head and pretended to be deep in conversation with Metelus. His tutor's face had gone ashen white and Edmund knew the faun had overheard the same thing he had.

"What do you think it means?" He asked quietly, though the giants had little chance of hearing their conversation.

Metelus shook his greying head thoughtfully. "I don't know, your majesty, perhaps we should tell the High King?"

Edmund considered for a moment. When they left the moors Peter's nightly wanderings had all but ceased, and the guards remained wakeful even in the hour before dawn, but he still had a strange, haunted look in his eyes, as if his dreams were disturbed. "No, we needn't worry him over something which is likely a misunderstanding on our part. You and I must be on our guard and warn the guards to double their watches. If anything else is said to give us cause for concern that will be the time to speak with the High King."

Metelus dipped his head in acknowledgement. "My King, forgive me if I speak too boldly, but both you and the High King your brother have seemed troubled of late. Please it your majesty to tell me what ails you?"

Edmund was silent for a moment, considering his words carefully. "I would have sought your council of my own accord many days since, had not my brother bound me to secrecy, save if any should notice his behaviour and question it. I must now entreat you to be bound by that same secrecy, for if what I now tell you were to become known it would doubtless cause many to panic. None save myself and Trebonius are aware of the details." Edmund found that he was glad Phillip had wandered out of earshot and was in deep conversation with a pair of Hounds. The Horse was unquestionably loyal but he was rather prone to gossip as well, and Edmund grimaced at the thought of every Dog in the pack baying about their sleepwalking king.

Metelus nodded his agreement solemnly and so Edmund recounted the events of the past weeks, including the details regarding the music Trebonius had heard and the inexplicable manner in which the guards fell into a deep sleep. Metelus listened gravely, asking questions occasionally and finally he sighed, rubbed a hand across his face in distress and began to speak.

"My king, you have not heard this music nor been effected by the same sleep that falls upon the rest of the camp?" Edmund shook his head. "And did you not say you suspected the Green Lady we met upon the moors of being a Witch or Enchantress of some form?"

Edmund nodded again, "But I have no proof, just a terribly sick feeling in the pit of my stomach when I think of her. Peter didn't believe me when I warned him about her." He tried to keep the hint of bitterness from his voice but knew Metelus heard it anyway.

"Then is it not possible your royal brother is enchanted by some foul witchcraft of hers? I have often heard of witches who laid similar enchantments, meant to drive their victims mad, or lead them to their deaths by walking off the edge of a cliff. Forgive me," he added when he saw Edmund's expression. "I do not mean to say that is what _has_ happened, merely that such things have been heard of."

"I wondered the same thing, but he never seems to be in any danger. He wakes to remember nothing of either the music or of wandering from camp, but there is a strange look in his eyes, as if each time he wanders from camp his spirit wanders farther from him." Edmund scowled at his brother's distant figure, riding tall and proud at the front of the group. "He denies noticing any change in his behaviour, but Lucy and I have both noticed him drawing away."

Metelus was silent, studying the gigantic slabs of stone they walked upon. When he spoke at last his tone was reluctant, almost frightened. "Your majesty, if I may be so bold, your brother has the same look in his eyes that I saw in the eyes of those enchanted by the White Witch in the years of reign. It is the look of someone whose will is no longer entirely their own. It may be true that he himself has not yet noticed the change, but is it continues soon it will be plain to all. And, if your majesty will once more pardon me, this too offers an explanation for why you remain unaffected. You have already been under the enchantment of the White Witch and cannot be enchanted by another."

Edmund shivered, suddenly chilled to his very bones. He scowled, silently cursing his reaction. _Will I always react so at the mention of the Witch? A king should be stronger than this!_ "What should we do? Surely there must be some way to help him; to break this enchantment."

"I do not know, my king. I will look to my books and give the matter what consideration I may. If the High King has nearly ceased his wanderings it is possible the enchantment is weakened, either by distance or by some other consideration we do not know of, regardless, this gives us some time to find a solution."

Edmund nodded wearily and wished there was a more immediate solution. _Lion's Mane Peter, why could you not have listened to me in the first place? Of all of us I'm most likely to know a Witch when I see one._

* * *

The next day, very late in the afternoon, they came to the foot of a great hill the top of which was flattened and fully ten times the size of Cair Paravel, and upon the hill stood the giant's city of Harfang. The road ran steeply upwards, winding its way around the hill until, at the top, it came to an enormous pair of heavy, brass gates.

The Narnians paused at the foot of the hill and stared upwards in open mouthed wonder. Edmund looked at the gates with a sinking heart, thinking as he did so that once they were inside, and the gates were closed after them, there would be no easy escape from the city. The gates were far too large and far too heavy for anyone save a giant to open, in fact, Edmund greatly doubted that even the Narnian giants, none of which had accompanied them, would be able to open them, for the giants of Harfang were far larger than those of Narnia.

Peter looked over and smiled, the haunted look in his eyes scarcely noticeable. "Well Ed, here we are, do you think there's any chance we've come to the wrong giant's city?"

Edmund snorted in response. "If only we should be so lucky. What do you think of those gates, Peter?"

The High King's expression darkened. "The city is rather highly fortified for peaceful giants, and the gates are rather impossible to manage if for anyone shorter than thirty feet. But, I suppose there's nothing for it; we can't exactly turn back now. Let's just hope they don't eat Narnians for breakfast!" He laughed at Edmund's expression and called for the company to move forward. For better or worse they would reach the city by nightfall.

Edmund turned to Metelus with a rather startled expression. "Do giants eat other Creatures?"

The faun looked rather pale despite his naturally ruddy complexion. "I have read accounts of the Ettins hunting and eating Talking Animals or dwarves for sport. I don't know about these giants; one might hope they are rather more civilised." But it was a sobering thought none the less.

 **Peter really should listen to Edmund! At least things seem to be getting better for him, at least for the moment, though I'm sure we all know what they say about frying pans and fires! Anyway, a note about the geography of Ettinsmoor and the Wild Northern Lands (where the Giants' City called Harfang is located). I know in the Silver Chair the bridge they cross is after the border between Ettinsmoor and the Wild Lands. My reasoning in placing it before is that over the fourteen hundred, approximately, years between my story and the Silver Chair the land has changed drastically. At the time of my story the moors extend further than in the Silver Chair and over time the higher moors become more rugged and until they become part of the Wild Lands. I'm also calling the Ruined City Harfang since it stands to reason that the Castle of Harfang is named after the ancient city. Anyway, let me know what you think by leaving a review! You are all wonderful for reading and sharing your thoughts; thank you!**

 **Cheers,**

 **A**


	6. In The Halls of The Giant King

**Thank you all so much for the lovely reviews! As always they made me smile and inspired me to write faster! On a more solemn not I apologise in advance for Peter in this chapter...He simply won't stop being a complete fool! Although,I must remember that it is my fault.**

The porter who opened the gates for them was rather shorter than any of them expected, perhaps only thirty feet tall, with a merry, red face and a loud cheerful voice.

"Welcome! Welcome!" He bent over the group of Narnians as they filed into the enormous courtyard; the horses, all save for Phillip, were terribly frightened and tried their best to prance away. The porter laughed, seeming rather more amused by this than was strictly necessary, and Peter bit his lip to keep from making a rather rude comment about his lack of manners. "Travelers from Narnia, eh?"

"You are addressing Peter, High King of Narnia, King Edmund the Just, and their royal sister, Queen Lucy the Valiant, here by invitation of your king, gatekeeper." Trebonius did a masterful job of keeping his voice steady, but the satyr made a much less imposing figure than Orieus would have, and Peter found himself missing his general.

"Royal guests, you say, little shrimp? Well now, that's different, isn't it? I don't know anything about royal guests, but perhaps you'd all better go in and see their majesties." He motioned broadly to an enormous, arched doorway with a careless wave of his hand.

Peter exchanged an annoyed look with Edmund; if they had need of a gatekeeper at Cair Paravel they would most certainly have informed him of the expected arrival of royal guests. Edmund merely shrugged, clearly too cold and tired to bother with being offended by the giant's manner.

Phillip snorted and shifted his hooves impatiently. "Not to overstate my own importance, Edmund, but could you possibly continue this fascinating conversation on the ground? Climbing that slope was no easy task." Peter frowned at the familiar tone the Horse used, but Edmund simply smiled and slipped off his back, patting his neck fondly.

The porter smiled pleasantly. "Your majesties, perhaps while you speak with our king and queen the stables might care for your horses?"

"Yes, thank you," Peter responded rather more shortly than he should have as he joined his brother on the ground. "Perhaps you would be so kind as to open the door for us?"

The porter laughed again, and though it sounded good natured enough, the sound set Peter's teeth on edge and reinforced the ache in his head. "Of course, your majesties, of course."

Peter offer Lucy his arm and she smiled as she accepted. "Shall we continue on to whatever adventure Aslan has sent us, brother?" she asked, very properly and promptly ruined the effect by giggling.

Peter smiled fondly; trust Lucy to somehow know when his mood was dangerously close to making him impolite and take matters into her own hands by cheering him up. "Lu, what would I do without you?" Her cheeks flushed happily and Edmund snorted in amusement.

"Doubtless you would punch a giant and be squashed into jelly," he offered helpfully and Peter laughed.

"Always the optimist, Ed."

Accompanied by Metelus and Trebonius the three rulers followed the porter through the huge arch of the doorway and into the cavernous hall beyond. The porter must have slowed his steps tremendously but they were still hard pressed to keep pace with him. At the end of the hall, which must have been a full six hundred yards long and took them five minutes to traverse, stood another door, this one of heavy oak, barred with iron. The porter knocked thunderously and a moment later the door swung inward and the porter stepped to the side, leaving the small party to continue alone.

The audience hall they entered was vast, there was no other word for it, and lined with huge stone chairs, many of which were occupied by stern faced, silent giants. At the far end stood a dais, higher off the floor by far than the top of Peter's head would have been if he had been on horseback, and on the dais stood two, beautifully carved and gilded thrones. The giants who sat upon the thrones were glorious to behold; their clothes were brilliantly coloured and very fine; jewels the size of small shields glittered in the folds of the queen's dress and in a necklace about her throat, and the king's crown would have been far too heavy and large for even Orieus to lift.

Peter squared his shoulders and stepped forward, terribly aware how shabby they must appear after weeks of traveling in comparison to their hosts. _If they decide to attack us we have no chance. Aslan, guide our steps and let us return home safely. Let me not have led my family and my people into a slaughter._

The king stood as they approached and clapped his hands together in a sound like a small earthquake. "Greetings, your majesties! I trust your journey was pleasant and our fool of a gatekeeper has not caused offense by his ill manners?"

Peter bowed stiffly, terribly aware that only one of the giant king's feet was large enough to crush him. "Not at all, your majesty. My companions and I are simply relieved to find we were expected after all. Allow me to present to you my brother, King Edmund," Edmund bowed, looking even more uneasy than Peter felt. "And my sister, Queen Lucy." Lucy curtsied beautifully and the expressions of everyone in the hall seemed to lighten as she smiled. "Our royal sister Queen Susan begs your majesties pardon at her absence, but it was necessary for her to remain behind and oversee the running of the kingdom in our absence."

For a moment, the king's face clouded with anger and Peter heard the shuffle of hooves as Trebonius shifted backwards in fright. _Orieus, if I am ever fool enough to leave you behind again, I swear I have not the sense to run a kingdom._ Then the king's expression lightened once more, so swiftly that Peter could almost believe he had imagined the change.

"It is most gracious of your majesties to honour our poor celebration with your presence," said the queen, rising as she spoke for the first time. "But surely you must be tired from your travels! The feast is yet some three days hence; you must rest and eat in that time, else I fear your visit to our city will be of little entertainment to you." She clapped her hands and a cluster of servants emerged from the shadows at the edges of the hall to escort their visitors out.

The rest of the guards joined them in the hallway, looking very frightened, and even the dogs were silent, tails drooping and ears twitching uneasily. They were led down another hallway, even longer than the first, and Peter began to wonder,somewhat dramatically, if they would ever reach their destination, or if they would simply walk through the night in the enormous palace.

Edmund stepped close to Peter's side and tapped him on the shoulder, interrupting his somewhat disturbing thoughts. "We must not let them separate us, especially not from our guards," he said quietly, his voice barely audible, even to Peter, so there was no chance of his being overheard. "If they were to put us all in separate chambers and shut the doors there would be no chance of communicating until they see fit to open them again."

Peter nodded and was about to make the request of the nearest giant when the whole party stopped suddenly. In the wall before them was a little doorway, far too small for a giant to enter even if they stooped or crawled on their belly, in fact, it was a nearly normal sized door. The servants bowed and gestured towards it.

"If it please your majesties, these rooms have been prepared for you and your company." Then with a bow they turned as one and walked swiftly back the way they had come.

"Well then," said Peter, rather pleasantly surprised at their departure, and opened the door. The rooms were barely larger than they were used to and the furnishings were all of normal size; most surprising of all, however, was the cluster of human servants waiting just inside the door. They all bowed or curtsied and their faces all bore the same expression of terror. Lucy immediately smiled brightly and stepped forward to greet them. Though the terror in their expressions faded somewhat, and one girl who looked about Lucy's age actually smiled, upon seeing that Lucy obviously meant them no harm none of them spoke. Peter found the whole situation strange and rather eerie; it is not an altogether pleasant feeling to find yourself being watched intently by a crowd of silent, frightened people, and he saw from Edmund's expression that his brother shared his unease.

The room itself appeared to be a kind of sitting room with many doorways leading out of it into what Peter could only assume where sleeping quarters and a dining room. He scarcely had time to wonder why the giants had human sized rooms and human servants when a very different person swept into the room.

It was the Green Lady; though here she appeared even more stately and more beautiful than Peter remembered. Her hair was encircled by a thin band of gold and her dress was trimmed with emeralds, in her hands she carried a carved harp, which might have looked familiar if Peter had bothered to look at it, but Peter was not looking at the harp. His eyes were drawn to her face and almost instantly he felt his cheeks flush and quite forgot how to speak.

"Your majesties!" A radiant smile lit her face. "I bid you welcome! I hope you will not find this small estate granted me by our most gracious hosts too dull in comparison to your own home."

"My lady," said Edmund, inclining his head stiffly. "If you will permit the question, when last we met you upon the moors you traveled South; how is it you are now here before us?"

Peter glared at his brother but Edmund took no notice of him; his eyes were fixed intently upon the lady's face, but not in admiration. "Forgive my brother's lack of courtesy," Peter said, finding his voice at last. "He is weary and forgets his manners."

Lucy looked about to say something in Edmund's defense but Peter silenced her with a fierce glare. The lady, however did not seem offended. She laughed merrily and Peter thought it must be the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. "I traveled far more swiftly than you, my dear kings and queen. My business in the South was not difficult to conclude and I arrived back at this fair city no more than an hour before your majesties."

"Indeed?" Edmund, it seemed would not be silenced and Peter was later ashamed to admit that at that moment he behaved in a very unkinglike manner and stomped very hard on Edmund's foot. The younger king gritted his teeth but would not be dissuaded from his questions. "I thought perhaps I saw you upon the road some days ago?"

For the merest instant, the lady's smile faltered before returning, more radiant than ever. "I cry your pardon, lord king, but you must have been mistaken. But come! You must all be weary! Let us leave such conversation until after you have all eaten." She snapped her fingers and the servants silently filed through one of the arched doorways; the lady followed, beckoning the rest to accompany her.

Much to Peter's annoyance Edmund caught his arm before he could follow and pulled him aside, his expression grave. "Peter, whatever you do don't eat the food."

Peter wrenched his arm free of his brother's grasp and drew himself up to his full height, which, given that Edmund was now only an inch shorter than him, was not as intimidating as it had once been. "You forget yourself, brother." Even he was surprised at the coldness of his tone, but Edmund's behaviour was insufferable. "You offer insult to a kind lady who has shown you nothing but courtesy and now you presume to counsel me on my behaviour? I think not."

Edmund's dark eyes flashed dangerously, but to his credit he did not lose his temper, and when he spoke his voice remained calm and reasonable. "Peter, please, listen to me; you are not yourself, have not been yourself since first we met this fell woman upon the moors. I tell you that she is a witch and I beg you heed my warning; trust me brother, please."

And Peter wanted to, he truly did, but before he really knew what he was doing he had turned away from Edmund and was following the lady. "I trust you will remember your manners better," he growled back over his shoulder.

* * *

Edmund stared at his brother's retreating back with a strange mix of anger and worry. Lucy frowned as she joined him, obviously having heard Peter's last remark at the very least. "Whatever is the matter with him?" she asked, shaking her head in bewilderment.

Edmund sighed wearily and offered her his arm. "I promise I will tell you everything, as I should have from the start, but not now and not here. We cannot risk this lady overhearing us. Lucy, whatever else you do, I beg you, do not eat anything she gives you."

Lucy's eyes widened in alarm as she took his arm. "Edmund! What is it? What has worried you so these past weeks and caused such a change in Peter's manner?" But Edmund only shook his head and led her into the long dining room.

It was a merry gathering, so very different from the tense, silent meals they had eaten around the fire on their journey to Harfang, that Edmund could almost forget his suspicion. In fact, he had nearly convinced himself that he was being a distrustful fool, had nearly decided to eat the food on his plate after all, when he caught Peter's eye from across the table. For a moment, his brother's expression was quite natural, rather ashamed by their earlier argument perhaps, but not unlike his usual manner. Then, in a moment a terrible change came over his face. His eyes grew cold and his mouth hardened into a thin line as he glared at Edmund with thinly veiled hostility. _You forget yourself brother._ Then Peter turned away to speak with the Green Lady and his expression became one of attentive wonder as he listened to her words. Edmund looked away, certain now that he was not imagining the change in Peter. _If I forget myself, dear brother, it is from concern for you. Perhaps you should consider what it is that makes you forget yourself, High King._

He pushed his plate away, suddenly nauseated by the very idea of eating, and closed his eyes. _Oh Aslan! Help me, please; I cannot save Peter from whatever danger he is in if he will not trust me!_ Lucy shifted her chair closer and slipped her arm through his, offering what comfort she could. "He'll listen; whatever it is you need to tell him, he'll listen eventually." Edmund could only hope she was right.

 **Oh dear! This is a fine kettle of fish; Peter really should listen to Edmund, he usually knows when someone is being dishonest. At least Lucy is being sensible! Next chapter coming soon, keep reading and drop me a review if you have time!**

 **Cheers,**

 **A**


	7. Into the Net

**I was going to post this earlier, as in late last night (it's currently early morning), but I didn't. I don't really have a good excuse...just got distracted and didn't finish the chapter in time. Sorry :( Anyway, Peter is still being rather beastly, sorry about that as well, he'll come to his senses eventually, maybe...**

"Edmund? Are you awake?" Edmund growled and turned crossly away from the voice. He still didn't understand why Peter had insisted on taking the bed next to him when there were plenty of other beds and even other rooms to sleep in. "Ed?"

"No, I'm not awake; leave me alone," he growled back and pulled the blankets over his head.

"Edmund, I'm sorry." Peter's voice was pleading now and Edmund reluctantly turned towards him.

"Look here Peter, it is well within your authority to ignore my council, but have you not yet learned to trust me?" He tried to keep the hurt out of his voice, but knew that Peter, at least in his right mind, would recognise it anyway.

"I do." He was silent for long enough Edmund wondered if that was all he planned to say and had nearly fallen asleep. "But don't you think you might be mistaken this time?'

Edmund gritted his teeth to keep from cursing in annoyance. "No, I don't, and I'm not. Think about it Pete, you start sleepwalking, or whatever you want to call it, the day after we meet this woman. You've been snapping at Lucy, losing your temper with the guards, and now you won't trust my judgement on something you obviously cannot remain objective about. Does that not seem remotely suspicious to you?"

"It does." He did not seem particularly enthusiastic in his response. "But it can't be because she is a witch! How could she be? She isn't evil! Besides, everyone is cross; it's the cold and the weariness. You have no proof that she is a witch or even that I have been enchanted, and every reason to believe she is precisely what she appears to be."

"Peter-"

"No; I'm sorry for how I spoke to you before, it was ill mannered of me. I do not distrust your judgement, only your state of mind in this instance. That is all, accept my apology or don't." Any trace of contrition or pleading was gone from his voice now, leaving it cold and harsh.

"I'm sorry too; I'm sorry I ever advised you to come here. It may be my fault that we're here now, but it certainly isn't my fault that you are making a fool of yourself!" He immediately regretted the snappish words, however well-deserved they were on Peter's part, but he wasn't about to take them back. It seemed Peter too was done with the conversation and a moment later Edmund heard him mutter a curse as he stood and stormed away to find a different place to sleep.

Edmund growled into his pillow and silently vowed not to lose his temper again no matter how much he wanted to punch Peter. _It isn't his fault, although he might at least try believing me. Lucy at least will be on my side._

* * *

Lucy frowned when Edmund explained Peter's behaviour and his own suspicions. "Oh, Edmund, that's dreadful! But really, you should have told me sooner, you shouldn't have to bear it alone." They had managed to find an empty room, far enough away from the silent servants to run no risk of being overheard. Lucy had found a book somewhere and it was open on the little table next to her, just in case someone came in and wondered what they were doing so far from their companions.

"I know I should have, but I thought I could reason with him and not have to involve you. I'm sorry Lu."

She smiled, instantly forgiving him, before her expression darkened with worry. "Do you think these giants are in on whatever plot this witch is hatching? Edmund! Surely you don't think they could be, they all seemed so kind last night?"

He looked towards the door quickly, almost certain he had heard a step in the hallway outside, but when he went to investigate no one was there. Frowning he resumed his seat and shrugged. "I don't know; they may be the ones behind the plot, whatever it actually is, or they may know nothing about it. But, it does seem far more likely that this Lady is acting under their approval, or even direction. I don't want to frighten you, but if we are in danger it's better that you know it."

Lucy's forehead wrinkled in thought and she was silent for a long moment, obviously puzzling through some problem. "Ed, why do you think you and I aren't effected by her enchantment? I don't find her particularly charming as Peter does, and you don't fall asleep, even when everyone else is enchanted to."

Edmund frowned and wished she hadn't asked. "I've already been enchanted by a witch," he reminded her quietly. "I don't think I can be again, at least not without eating her food. By the way Lu, you didn't eat anything at dinner, did you?"

"No," she said mournfully. "And I'm terribly hungry now. Do you suppose it's safe to eat if she isn't here?"

Edmund's own stomach cramped painfully at the thought of food, and he realised his last meal must have been the previous morning before they broke camp. "I don't know, Lu, I'm sorry but we probably shouldn't risk it. I'm sure one of the guards has something left from home."

"Shouldn't we warn them? What if they are enchanted too? And you never said why I'm not enchanted too."

"One question at a time, dear sister." He smiled at her fondly and despite the seriousness of the situation he could not help feeling better knowing Lucy was there to help him. "There isn't much we can do about the guards except hope she doesn't bother with them. Our supplies from Cair Paravel have almost run out and if it comes to a fight we can't risk them being half starved. And as for your not being enchanted," he paused to consider carefully. "I think perhaps she's only interested in Peter. After all, he is the High King, and what better way to strike at Narnia than through one of her kings." _It seems to be a favourite trick of witches._

"It does make sense," Lucy said slowly, frowning. "But Edmund, what if she really doesn't mean any harm? Can we really risk offending her and the giants if they are all they seem to be? I'm not doubting your judgement," she added quickly when she saw his expression. "Just, are you certain?"

 _Am I?_ he wondered. _Is it just that I'm suspicious of strange, beautiful women because of the Witch? Why shouldn't she be everything she seems to be? But Peter, Peter wouldn't act like this ordinarily._ "'Not all enchantments are magical'," he said quietly.

"What was that?"

"Just something Metelus told me once." He frowned at the tapestry on the wall with a vague feeling of disgust that had nothing to do with the bright forest scene depicted there. _But really, why shouldn't it be that simple?_ "I may be making a fool of myself," he admitted at last. "But in case I'm not, please promise me you'll be careful? Just until I can be sure?"

"Of course!" She smiled and Edmund tried to smile in return but knew he failed miserably.

"Let's find Peter, I suppose I might at least try to be civil to our host. Regardless of her intentions, I behaved rather foolishly yesterday." _If she is a witch I shouldn't have shown my suspicion and if she isn't I have offended her without cause._

When they found Peter, he was eating breakfast in the dining room, the Green Lady beside him. They both smiled and Edmund was once more certain he had not been mistaken; there was something evil in the Lady's smile, though it appeared kind enough. Peter seemed to be in excellent spirits, though his expression darkened somewhat when he saw Edmund; he obviously had not forgotten their quarrel the night before.

"King Edmund, Queen Lucy, welcome! Please eat, you must be very hungry." _She knows,_ thought Edmund helplessly, _she knows we ate nothing at supper._ He directed a warning glance in Lucy's direction and saw her sigh, but, in the end, she nodded almost imperceptibly.

"If you will forgive us, my lady, my royal sister and I have already eaten our breakfast." Out of the corner of his eye he saw Peter scowl, and hastened to add; "Indeed, I feel I must beg your pardon also for my behaviour last night. I was not myself and spoke rudely." The words tasted bitter as he said them, but what was the use of being a diplomat if his skill failed him when he needed it most?

Their ever gracious hostess smiled, it seemed she never stopped smiling, and inclined her head to him. "Not at all, dear king; there is no need for such apologies between friends. We may be friends, mayn't we?"

Edmund gritted his teeth and forced a smile. "Indeed, my lady, I would be most honoured to call you friend."

Peter smiled, though Lucy's expression darkened and she looked questioningly at Edmund, as if to say; "Is it safe?". Edmund shook his head slightly.

"My lady was just about to tell me how she came to live in the company of giants," Peter said cheerfully. "Perhaps you two would like to hear her tale as well?"

 _My Lady? Peter, please don't be that much of a fool._ "Of course, we would be most interested." He took his seat across from Peter and the Lady while Lucy sat on the other side of Peter, frowning slightly when he barely seemed to notice her presence.

"Many years ago," the Lady began in her musical voice; "I was abandoned upon the moors by my parents and found by one who became as a mother to me. She had long been a friend of this most generous king, whose halls you are in now-"

"Does the king have a name?" Lucy interrupted with such a sweet smile that it would have been impossible for even Peter to be cross with her.

"No, dear one, no one here is called by any name; names have power here, little queen, quite unlike in your own land of Narnia. To speak someone's name gives you power over their very soul." Her eyes glittered greedily as she smiled sweetly at Peter; he seemed not to notice. "As I was saying, she was long a friend of this most gracious king, giants here live for hundreds of years you see, and so brought me to his halls to be raised as befits a great lady. My mother, for she was more a mother to me than my own, soon had to leave this great city on her own affairs, though she visited me often. When I had come of age the dear king named me his heir, should he and the queen remain childless, and here I have lived in these rooms he had constructed long ago for my mother. Whenever some visiting dignitary comes to seek counsel or aid from their majesties it is with me that they stay." For the first time, her expression was grave rather than merry, and she seemed to be remembering some sad occurrence. "Not long since I received news that my mother was killed in her own land by a band of foreign invaders." A single tear slid from one brilliant green eye and splashed across her folded hands. "Forgive me friends, I am yet overcome by my grief."

Peter hastened to offer her his handkerchief, and Edmund, who did not believe for a moment the Lady's grief was genuine wanted nothing so much as to kick his leg under the table.

"It grieves me to think what might have happened had not so gracious a lady found you. I am deeply sorry that you have lost her and if it be in my power to punish those responsible, rest assured I will." The lady smiled again at Peter's declaration and her face flushed.

"Yes, quite right Peter," said Edmund through gritted teeth. "Perhaps the Lady might tell us the name of this land so we might seek justice?"

She laughed, grief seemingly forgotten. "Dear king, it is very far from here, you will not have heard of it. Your royal brother's kind offer alone is far too generous, and I would not trouble any of you further with my woes. Perhaps your majesties will excuse me? I have other matters to attend to, but if you should want for anything simply tell one of the servants. They cannot speak, but will hasten to obey your every wish."

"None of them?" Lucy exclaimed in amazement, her expression appearing innocent, but Edmund saw the suspicion in her eyes and knew she would not now question his doubts.

"It is a dull tale and rather disturbing for one of your majesty's tender years," said the Lady smoothly. "Suffice it to say that I saved them from a terrible fate and they owe their loyalty to me and me alone." She rose and curtsied beautifully before sweeping from the room, her green dress swirling around her feet.

"Well," said Lucy, watching her go. "Edmund, I do believe you're right."

Peter growled in annoyance and pushed his chair away from the table forcefully. "Don't tell me our fool of a brother has been spinning his wild tales of her being a witch to you too Lucy! Really Edmund, this is too much!"

"Peter!" gasped Lucy in shock.

"I'm sorry," he said reluctantly. "That was rather harsh of me."

Edmund clenched his fists until he felt his fingernails cut into his palms. _Fool of a brother; oh Peter, how can you let her trick you so?_ "It's alright," he said aloud, forcing the words out through clenched teeth. "Perhaps your majesty would excuse me?" He turned stiffly and did not look back even when Lucy called his name. He stumbled through the maze of passages, wanting nothing more than to escape into the sunlight which came streaming through the windows. He nearly collided with one of the servants, the same girl who had smiled at Lucy the night before.

She nearly dropped her armload of books and stared at him with wide, terrified eyes. "I beg your pardon," he said rather shortly, remembering what the lady had said about the servants owing their loyalty to her and her alone. "Perhaps you could show me the way to the stables?" She nodded, shakily and hurried back the way she had come. Sighing Edmund followed, half expecting to find himself in the kitchens, but in a few moments, he found she had led him to a door which opened upon a courtyard. He nodded his thanks when he saw a long low building that could only have been a stable.

Phillip nuzzled his hair in greeting as he approached and Edmund threw his arms around the Horse's neck, suddenly unable to hold back his tears. Phillip whinnied softly in alarm. "Edmund? What's wrong lad?" Edmund shook his head and buried his face in Phillip's mane, not yet trusting himself to speak. "Who has hurt you, my king? Take me to them and the last thing they see in this world will be the flash of my hooves!" He pawed at the straw covered floor as if to emphasis his point.

"I fear you would then be guilty of killing the High King," said Edmund shakily and stepped away to sit against the nearest wall. Phillip stood over him protectively, with his head almost resting on Edmund's shoulder, while Edmund told him the whole tale.

At the end of it Phillip huffed out a great sigh and stamped his hooves. "Well," he said, tossing his mane. "Perhaps a good kick will break the enchantment and do your brother no end of good."

Edmund nearly laughed and started to speak when the unmistakable sound of alarm bells ringing cut through the peaceful morning. Voices, too loud to be any other than those of giants could be heard shouting angrily, and above it all rose a thunderous, murderous cry of rage.

 **What's happening? Who is shouting and why are there alarm bells ringing? I wish I could tell you, I really do, but the chapter isn't quite ready to be posted yet. If you kill me for the cliffhanger you will never find out! Also, the not naming any of the giants or the Lady may seem a bit lazy...I promise that's not actually the reason; names really do have power in the giant's country...More on that later! Leave me a review? Pretty Please? And thank you so much to everyone who has already reviewed! Oh, before I forget, any ideas on who the Lady's "mother" is?**

 **Cheers,**

 **A**

 **P.S. I'm adding this note as I write the next chapter. Fair warning; this next chapter is dark...incredibly so. That being said it does not qualify as gore and has no sexual content, duh, this is me writing it. Anyway, you have been warned and the chapter will be up roughly twenty hours after this post. :-)**


	8. The Trap Springs-Part I

**Okay...Here goes. Do you ever have those terribly powerful ideas, that once you think of them, you can't do anything until you've written them down? Well, that was this chapter. This is the result of about two hour's work at one-thirty or two A.M. and another forty minute's revision in my English class while my professor was going on a punctuation tangent and I was terribly bored. Anyway, I feel I owe everyone an apology; I really tried to write a different plot for this chapter, something less dark, but I couldn't; this is what I had to keep coming back to.**

The giants' Queen lay on the floor of her bed chamber; her eyes were closed, her face bloodless, and buried to the hilt in her throat was Lucy's dagger. Lucy's hands flew to her mouth and all colour drained from her face when she saw the dead queen and her own weapon, which had clearly been used to kill her. Until that very moment no one had realised Lucy's dagger was not still hanging from her belt, and Peter could not remember when he last seen her with it.

The King towered over the body of his Queen, his eyes harsh and cold. It had been his shout Edmund had heard in the stables, and upon returning to the dining room all three of the monarchs had been hurried back into the main halls of the giants' castle by the Green Lady where they were met by three, towering guards in heavy armour, who marched them to the Queen's chambers with grim, set faces. No one had answered their questions, and even the Green Lady had been grim faced and nearly silent, though she had assured Peter in a low voice that all would be well.

The King had not yet spoken, though his fury was plain in every line of his enormous face. Peter saw that his hands were clenched into fists at his sides and shuddered involuntarily at the thought of being struck by them. He was also distantly aware of Edmund standing tensely at his side, hand dropping instinctively to his sword hilt. Peter realised then, that his own sword was back in the chamber he had slept in, leaning forgotten against his bed, and he silently cursed his own stupidity.

"Peter-Edmund, I didn't do this, please, you know I didn't do this!" Lucy's voice shook as she stared in horror at the scene.

Peter, horrified himself, and far more concerned by the fact they were trapped in the castle at the mercy of giants who believed Lucy had killed their queen, shook his head. "Hush, Lucy." He didn't mean his tone to be harsh but Lucy dissolved into tears and Edmund shot him a furious glare as he wrapped an arm around her shaking shoulders.

"It's alright Lu, of course you didn't. No one in their right mind would think you had," Edmund said comfortingly, though Peter knew he was just as concerned by this sudden turn of events.

"This is your dagger, is it not, Queen Lucy? Why have you so dishonoured our hospitality and generosity in inviting you by killing our dear Queen?" The King asked finally, in a voice like thunder.

Lucy's whole body shook in terror but she faced the giant bravely, wiping the tears from her cheeks and appearing every inch a queen. "Yes, your majesty," she said in a clear voice without a hint of a tremor. "But it was not I who did this. I left my dagger next to the bed I slept in last night; anyone could have taken it between now and then."

Peter had only a moment to feel proud of her before one of the Green Lady's servants scurried into the room, curtsied, knees shaking with terror, and held up a bloodstained cloak. One of the giant guards bent to take it from the servant and Peter's heart sank to his boots. The cloak was Lucy's, one he had seen her wear a hundred times before; the same one she had been wearing at breakfast. He knew it wasn't true, could not be true, but the plot was devious enough for the giants' King to believe.

And believe it he did; he held up the cloak, looking ridiculously tiny in his hands, for all to see, and spoke thunderously. "Behold, the proof of this foul crime, found in the Narnian queen's bedchamber! Guards! Take her away!"

Peter felt his legs turn to lead; he could not move, could only stare at the king in horror before turning his eyes to Lucy. Her face turned still more ashen as she reached for his hand, frantically, pleadingly. "Peter!" But he could not go to her; he had no control over his own limbs.

It was Edmund who once more sprang to her defense, drawing his sword and stepping between Lucy and the guard as he bent to pick Lucy up in one of his enormous hands. With scarcely a glance the guard swatted Edmund away as if he were no more than a fly, and Peter could only stand there, dumbly frozen, as his brother flew fully twenty feet through the air before he struck a wall with a dull thud. _EDMUND!_ Peter screamed his name, but no sound escaped his lips; he was frozen paralysed and helpless with horror. The guard swept Lucy up in his hand before she even had time to scream and turned to lumber away through the door.

Peter was dimly aware of the Lady at his side speaking quickly and urgently to the King, but he could not make out the words. His head spun and his mind felt stuffed with cotton as he stared blankly at Edmund's limp body lying against the wall. _Ed, Lucy; oh Aslan, no! Please don't take them from me!_ As if in answer to his desperate prayer he saw Edmund move, it was barely perceptible, could almost have been his imagination, but he knew beyond doubt that Edmund had turned his head, as if trying to look towards him. Then he was still, and Peter could only hope desperately that he was still alive.

The Lady put a gentle hand on his arm, and guided him away; Peter stumbled like a drunkard, his legs strangely unwilling to move, but he felt compelled to follow her. Anything to get out of that chamber, away from-

"No," he mumbled, feeling rather stupid. "No, Edmund, my Lady, please, my brother," the words were jumbled; his tongue felt thick and swollen.

"Hush, dear king," and her voice was like honey, golden and soothing. "My people will see to him; you need not worry on his account. Come, you've had quite a shock and I fear you are unwell. We must away from here, lest the King in his fury do you harm." She guided him back through the halls, her hand warm and comforting on his arm, and his head seemed to clear.

"What about Lucy?" he asked, somewhat more intelligibly. "Is she alright? Surely, they must know she could not have killed the Queen! My Lady, I beg you, of your courtesy, tell the King she could not have done so!" His heart pounded in sudden panic. _Lucy! Edmund! I have to go to them!_ For a moment he fought her, trying to pull his arm free from her gentle grasp.

"Peace! Peace, dear king!" Her voice was so very calming and his heart slowed in response, his panic abating. "I swear that I will do all I can for your sister. But please, your majesty is not well, you must rest." Almost before he realised where they were she opened the door to her wing of the palace and guided him inside and through the next doorway to one of the rooms, whose walls were lined with beds.

The Narnian guards were nowhere to be seen, but strangely their absence did not concern Peter. His head ached terribly and the room spun around him as the Lady guided him to the nearest bed. "Sleep, dear king," she soothed as he lay back against the pillows. "Sleep, and I will see that all is made right." Peter felt his eyelids growing terribly heavy, and though he wanted to fight it, wanted to spring to his feet and find Edmund and Lucy; wanted desperately to leave the city and ride as fast as he could, home to Cair Paravel, he found he could not, and sleep took him as he heard once more the sweet strains of the Green Lady's music.

* * *

Lucy fought and kicked, biting and scratching at the giant's leather gauntleted hand and forearm as he carried her away, but it was no use. "You brute!" She shouted, beating her fists against his enormous fingers, which wrapped around her body like a vice. "You're a monster! You didn't have to hurt him! You didn't have to-" _Kill him?_ But the giant only laughed and tightened his grip until she could barely breathe. _Oh Edmund, why must you always throw yourself between me and danger?_ But she would not weep in the presence of the giant; not again.

The guard pulled open a huge iron door, which opened upon complete darkness, and dropped Lucy, none too gently onto the floor. Before she could pick herself up the door had slammed behind her and she heard the sound of a bolt being drawn; not that it was necessary, even if she could have reached the latch it would have been far too heavy for her to lift. She blinked, trying to adjust her eyes to the darkness, but it was no use, there was no light. She may as well have had her eyes closed as open, and she realised with a dreadful feeling that she was in a cell.

She walked to her left, hands out in front of her to keep from bumping her head into the wall, and when her fingertips brushed against cool stone she sank to the floor gratefully and pressed her back against the solid wall. Breathing deeply, to calm her racing heart, she began to take stock of the situation.

Her diamond bottle of cordial still hung from her belt, its familiar weight a welcome comfort, but oh! If only she could have managed to drop it back in the chamber with Peter and Edmund; they would doubtless have far more need of it than she did. She was largely unhurt, though her ribs ached from the giant's grip and her head throbbed, but that was where the positive aspects of the situation ended.

Peter had stood by and watched, never moving to help or calling out, even when Edmund had been struck, and that worried her terribly. She had no doubts now that Edmund had been right. She had seen the strange, disconnected expression on her eldest brother's face and the look of terrible glee on the Green Lady's as she had been carried away. And Edmund, but she could not bear to think of Edmund, save to reassure herself that he must be alive. _He must be! He must be. But how? And I can't get the cordial to him because I'm stuck inside a cell!_ She ground her teeth in frustration, never minding what Susan would say. _Susan! If only I could get a message to her! She could send Orieus and the army to help us._ But there was no way to get a message out, and even if she could have it would take two weeks for the army to reach Harfang.

Lucy pulled her knees up to her chest and rested her forehead on them. She would not cry, she vowed silently, she was the Valiant Queen and she would not betray the title Aslan gave her by faltering now.

 _Aslan, we are in Your paws now as we always are. Please, watch over us, especially over Edmund and Peter._ She shivered, alone in the cold and the dark, but she did not cry and somehow, she could still believe that she was never alone, for Aslan was always with her.

* * *

Edmund barely had time to realise what was happening before he felt the impact of the giant's gauntleted hand and found himself tumbling through the air. The impact against the wall was so sudden, so unexpected that it barely had time to hurt him, though he knew it had hurt him terribly, and for a moment the pain did not register. He struggled weakly to turn his head; trying to see what had become of Lucy and Peter, trying to call out to them, when the pain, the blinding agony, struck him so suddenly that he did not even have time to cry out before his vision faded and there was nothing left but darkness and throbbing, mind numbing agony.

When next he was consciously aware someone was carrying him, none too gently, and he could just hear, over the relentless throbbing of his head, the thudding footfalls of a giant. Then he was dropped or thrown onto something lumpy and smelling faintly of blood. He tried to open his eyes but thought better of it when someone nudged him roughly in the ribs; he heard a groan and realised vaguely that it was his own voice, responding to the pain in his ribs.

"This one's still alive; he's breathing," said the rough voice of a giant.

"Leave him here with the rest," responded another, deeper voice. "He won't be for long." The two laughed loudly and cruelly, voices and footsteps fading as they retreated.

Edmund tried to catch his breath and ignore the agony pulsing through his body with every frantic beat of his heart. Something was dreadfully wrong with him, but his mind raced, panicked and out of control, and he could not focus on what it was. He had nearly managed to calm his breathing when the footsteps returned and something heavy was thrown down on top of him, crushing what little air he had managed to get from his lungs. Whatever it was felt strangely furry and something damp and slightly sticky dripped from it; Edmund smelled the sharp tang of blood and knew that not all of it could be his own.

True panic gripped him then and he thrashed wildly, trying to push whatever it was off, but another object was thrown down on top of the first one and he could not move. The giants laughed from somewhere above him, their voices harshly amused.

"He'll stop breathing soon enough once we're done with the rest of this rabble," one of them said merrily. "I heard this one is one of those Narnian kings; what a pity there will be no one left to mourn his death." The footsteps retreated and the laughter slowly faded into the distance.

Edmund tried to lie still, to remain calm; to focus only on drawing in what little air he could with the terrible weight pressing down on him, but the terror of suffocating, of being trapped, buried, unable to move gripped him. He struggled vainly, his broken and battered body too weak to be of any use, and he felt the darkness pulling at him, threatening to drag him so far into it that he would never wake.

"Peter," he managed to gasp out, unreasonably calling out for his brother even though he knew Peter was not there. He gagged as blood ran into his mouth and trickled down his throat, threatening to choke him with the taste of death. "Peter!" But Peter could not save him and he fell, helpless, into the arms of the waiting darkness. _Peter, help me._

 **Okay, I swear I'm actually sorry, but I really couldn't help it. If you hate it, let me know in a review, same goes for if you love it or are disgustedly indifferent. Also, if you have any guesses as to what exactly is happening at the end of the chapter let me know that as well! Thank you for reading and reviewing as always; the next chapter, the second part of this chapter really if you read the chapter title, will be posted soon. I can't leave you with that ending for long; it would simply be cruel.**

 **Cheers, (also, please don't murder me)**

 **A**


	9. The Trap Springs-Part II

**This chapter gave me no end of trouble to write! The problem with having all your main characters imprisoned, enchanted, or slowly suffocating is that there is no one left to write through the perspective of. So, although I hate writing through the eyes of OC's, it's incredibly difficult and never seems to work out the way I want it to, I left myself with no other options. Maybe if I stopped nearly killing Edmund every story writing would be easier...**

Trebonius stared at the heap of twisted, bloody corpses, fury and horror battling for the upper hand within him. They had been his friends, comrades, and, Lion forbid, perhaps even his rulers; next to him the faun, Metelus, dropped to his knees and was violently ill. Trebonius swallowed back the bile that filled his own throat with some difficulty; it was only by the grace of Aslan that he and Metelus had escaped the slaughter and a wave of guilt swept over him. It was considered a great honour to serve as a guard to Narnia's monarchs, an even greater honour still to be placed in charge of their safety on their journey north, and from the very start he had failed them. Queen Lucy and King Edmund had nearly been killed by giants while he had stood by uselessly, the High King had wandered the moors while he had slept rather than doing his duty as guard, and now this. Now the mountain of dead that had been soldiers under his command; now the terrible fear that he would see the glint of Queen Lucy's fair hair among the twisted bodies, would stumble upon the High King's sword, broken upon the ground, or would see King Edmund lying still and silent, unable even to pass just judgement upon him for his failure. It was better that he had died with his comrades then he should live to see such sorrow.

He turned away, bowing his shaggy head beneath the weight of his grief. There was nothing left save to return to Cair Paravel, report the tragedy and death to the Queen Susan, and pray his own death was merciful. Afterwards he never knew if it was by chance or by the Grace of Aslan that he heard the low, wheezing breath. He turned back, scarcely daring to hope that any could yet be alive in that terrible mountain of death, but Metelus too had heard the sound and was staring with wide, horrified eyes.

He scrabbled through the bloody, twisted bodies, pushing those he could aside until he found himself staring down upon the bloodied, pale face of his king; it was Edmund. His hands shook, more accustomed to wielding an axe or sword than caring for the wounded, as he lifted the boy into his arms and laid him carefully upon the grass of the hillside, kneeling beside him.

"Is he alive?" Metelus asked, hovering near his shoulder, his voice shaking. It was small wonder that he asked, for the only sign of life was the king's ragged laboured breathing, and even that sounded as though it might stop at any moment.

"He is, praise be to Aslan. You know more of healing than I, faun, help him."

"Me?!" Metelus sputtered, hooves shuffling in alarm. "I am no healer!"

"Nor am I," responded Trebonius coldly, rather despising the old faun for his uselessness. "But he is our king and what right have we to call ourselves Narnians if he is to die while we quarrel? We must both do all we can for him."

A hand closed suddenly around his wrist; if Trebonius had time to feel anything other than shock he would have been ashamed of the way he started and nearly toppled over backwards, but he had no time. The king's eyes were open, wide and unfocused, and filled with terror. He clutched weakly at Trebonius' arm, gasping for breath and trying desperately to speak.

"Peter-" it was barely more than breath, scarcely recognisable as a word, but Trebonius knew who it was his king was asking for.

"Edmund?" Metelus bent over him, ignoring any formality of speech in his concern. "Edmund, can you hear me?"

Slowly, painfully the young king nodded, blinking rapidly and trying to focus his eyes on his tutor's face. He released Trebonius' arm in favour of trying to sit up and the satyr pushed him back with a hand on his shoulder.

"You must be still, my king, you have been injured." Whatever Trebonius had expected it most certainly was not the look of stubborn determination that crossed the human's face as he ignored Trebonius' words and continued struggling to push his hand away.

Metelus, obviously more used to this strange behaviour slipped an arm behind his shoulders and held a small flask to his lips. "If you must insist upon being stubborn drink this first," he said quietly and Trebonius frowned at the familiarity and presumption of his address. Very young and injured though he might be he was still a king of Narnia, not merely a wayward pupil for Metelus direct. A moment later Edmund's eyes slid closed and he sagged back against the faun, any trace of resistance gone.

"What have you done?" Trebonius demanded, half drawing his sword.

Metelus sighed and held up the flask. "A simple sleeping draught. Queen Susan gave it to me when she learned I would be accompanying King Edmund; she thought I might have need of it if he became injured or ill and was proving too stubborn for his own good." He unfastened his cloak and wrapped it around the sleeping king. "When next he wakes we must hope he is more inclined to be reasonable."

 _If he wakes,_ thought Trebonius grimly as he looked once more towards the pile of bodies.

* * *

"Captain, quickly, I think he's waking," The voice sounded worried, hopeful, and vaguely familiar.

Edmund heard the sound of hooves and the clanking of weapons, remembered the thudding sound of a giant's footsteps and the suffocating terror of being buried beneath a crushing weight. He lashed out blindly, past and present blurring, and found himself gasping for breath as the sudden movement seemed to crush the air from his lungs

"Easy, King Edmund," another voice, deeper, harsher. "Breathe slowly. That's it; breathe."

Someone put an arm behind his shoulders and lifted his head; the barely remembered agony returned as the movement shifted broken bones and bruised flesh. Some distant voice cried out in pain.

There was the smell of wine as a flask was held to his lips; memory of blood and the stifling stench of death. He lurched to the side, half choking, fighting the arms that held him as his empty stomach heaved; ribs screaming protest at being so mistreated.

"Please your majesty, you must remain calm." That was the first voice, less calm than the other, but somehow more comforting and familiar. The cup was held to his lips again and this time he managed to drink, coughing as the wine burned his raw throat. "That's it. You must lie still."

He forced his leaden eyelids open and the world swam, strangely out of focus above him, little more than a confused jumbled of greys. He blinked and saw the concerned face of a faun bending over him, the concern slowly giving way to relief. "King Edmund?"

A wave of memory crashed over him; a giant looming over Lucy, hand outstretched to grab her; Peter standing frozen, eyes wide and unfocused; the crushing weight pressing him down and the choking smell of death. He struggled to sit up, fighting the agony and weariness that pulled at his limbs, fighting too the hands that held him down. "Peter! Lucy!"

"Your majesty! Edmund! You must remain calm and lie still. You can be of no help to anyone currently." Edmund found he had no strength to disobey Metelus' voice and lay back reluctantly, staring up at the darkening sky.

"How long?" he asked, even the two, simple words seeming to take much more effort than they should.

"The giant's Queen was murdered yesterday morning and we found you among the dead that same afternoon," that was Trebonius' voice, low and grief filled.

"The dead?"

"Most of the guards were killed; slaughtered before they had the chance even to fight," the satyr captain said slowly, as if the words were heavy on his tongue. "Though I believe the Dogs and Horses are still in the castle; they were not among the dead."

 _The dead._ He remembered the taste of blood and the giants' laughter as they left him to die, trapped beneath the bodies of his guards. He was nearly sick again at the thought, and gritted his teeth with the effort of keeping the nausea at bay. "Peter? Lucy?"

Metelus shook his head, his expression mournful. "There has been no word; we did not find their bodies, so there may yet be hope."

"They aren't dead." Though he wished he could know for certain.

"My king?" Trebonius' voice again and Edmund turned his head with difficulty until he could see him. "We cannot risk staying here longer, the giants may return with more bodies, or to burn those already here. We are too near the city here, but there is a cave, near the base of the hill, on the side behind the city where we are now, I found it late last night, but we could not risk your life by moving you then."

"No." Faun and satyr both stared at him in shock and Edmund had to admit it was an appropriate response. "I refuse to flee while Peter, Lucy, and other loyal Narnians remain trapped within those walls." _Though how precisely I plan to help them when I cannot even stand is a mystery to me._

"Forgive me if I speak too boldly, but have you taken leave of your senses?" Metelus crossed his arms over his chest and glared down at Edmund. "I had thought you took my lessons on logic and strategy more to heart."

Edmund closed his eyes and tried to think; it was true that any attempt at a rescue in his current state was inadvisable at best, with disaster being the most likely outcome. They could not hope to fight the giants, but Edmund knew that if he turned his back on the city to ensure his own safety he would betray his duty as king. Something like a plan began to take shape in his mind and he smiled grimly, knowing even his quick-witted tutor could not fault his logic.

"We need aid from Narnia with all speed and neither you Metelus, nor you good captain, is swift enough to reach queen Susan in less than the time we took traveling here. We must send either Phillip or one of the dogs with the account of what has happened here; if you are right in believing them to be alive they will still be in the Lady's stables." He paused to catch his breath and tried to remember more clearly every detail of his visit to the stables the previous morning. "There is a door, small and light enough for us to open, set into the back wall of the courtyard behind the stables. Tomorrow night is the feast, in the confusion of preparation we can slip in and out, undetected."

Metelus frowned, brows drawing together in a bushy, grey line. "And you, my king? Do not think me fool enough to believe you will be content with merely rescuing those in the stables. I have known you too long to believe you will leave without at least news of your royal brother and sister."

"The giants must surely think me dead; I intend to disguise myself as a servant and gather what information I can, and, Aslan willing, rescue my brother and sister. they will not recognise a servant to the Green Lady as a dead Narnian king. " It sounded ridiculously optimistic, even to Edmund himself, but he had to at least try.

"There are two things more would require careful consideration," said the faun slowly, clearly unhappy with the plan, but not daring to defy his king.

"Only two?" Edmund was rather surprised by that.

"We are outside the city gates and they are barred against any save giants." He fell silent and then, a moment later huffed in frustration. "But there have been wagons going in and out all day and doubtless will be tomorrow. I dare say we could slip through undetected if we could climb into the back of one."

To Edmund's surprise it was Trebonius who reminded the faun a moment later that there were two points requiring consideration. Metelus glared at Edmund then, seemingly forgetting that it was his king and not his student that he spoke to. "The second is that you have not the strength to stand."

"I have until dawn to find the strength," Edmund reminded him quietly, making it clear that the matter was not up for debate.

* * *

Lucy wasn't sure how long she sat alone in the darkness; she must have slept at some point and woke to find that her limbs were stiff from sitting, huddled against the wall, and she was terribly hungry and thirsty. Still, it was no use dwelling on her troubles when there was nothing she could do about them. She lost track of how many times she slept and woke again, only to find her situation unchanged.

It was terribly dull to sit in the dark, with nothing to do and no way to pass the time more quickly, and Lucy had nearly made up her mind to start exploring the room in hopes of finding a candle when she heard the unmistakable sound of giant's footsteps and the scraping of the bolt on the door being drawn back.

The light that poured into the room nearly blinded her and before her eyes had fully adjusted to it, and before she could do more than blink, the giant had stooped and picked her up again, slightly more gently this time.

"His majesty the King wishes to see you, human," he said, smirking as she tried to wriggle free of his grasp. "Now then, let's have none of that; wouldn't want to hurt yourself, now would you? You humans have such delicate bones." He tightened his grip, as if to emphasise his point and Lucy reluctantly stopped trying to free herself. She remembered all too well that this was the same giant who had struck Edmund so cruelly and silently vowed to insure his death herself the first chance she got. It may not have been a very queenly thought, but it was Susan who was the Gentle, and though Lucy was rarely angry when she was it was terrible to behold.

The giant carried her back into the throne room where they had first met the King and dropped her on the floor at the foot of the dais. He withdrew, bowing into the shadows at the edge of the room and Lucy was left to look up at the King alone. He was seated on his throne, the Queen's next to him was draped in black, and his expression was not one of anger, as Lucy had expected, but rather of glee.

"Well!" he said, with a rather unpleasant laugh. "That worked rather well; my fool of a Queen is dead, and two of Narnia's rulers are safely under my control. Yes," he added when he saw her expression, though how he could distinguish it from such a distance she did not know. "I said two, dear queen. Your brother the High King is by now so deeply enchanted that he has no hope of returning to himself, and as for the other, he is dead."

Lucy bit her lip to keep from crying out. It couldn't be true, yet how could it fail to be true? _Edmund, don't be dead, please don't be dead!_

"There is no one left to aid you, or your foolish sister in Cair Paravel. My armies will march upon Narnia and take back the land which is rightfully ours."

"You underestimate the strength of _our_ armies," Lucy shot back, hoping her voice did not shake.

The King laughed, shaking the room. "Your armies, dear queen, will not dare to fight us while we hold yourself and the High King as our hostages. If the dear Lady, my heir, has any say in the matter the High King himself may well sign the throne of Narnia over to her without a single drop of blood being spilled; such is her art for enchanting men's minds. And now, for you; you, dear queen will dine with me tonight at the feast, the better to witness what becomes of any who dare stand against me." Lucy shivered at the venom in his words, but set her teeth and would not show her fear openly.

 _We are Aslan's chosen,_ and the thought comforted her greatly. _He will not forget those he has appointed, nor will he abandon them in their hour of need._ She looked up into the cruel, harsh face of the King and smiled sweetly. "You know not what it is you do, nor to Whom you have given offense, but the day will come when you will know Him. That day will be your last." And the King's face paled at the ring of truth in her words.

 **So, Edmund has a plan, even if it does sound rather impossible; Lucy is eternally trusting of Aslan, the giant King is a despicable creature, and Peter...well, that's a good question. You'll hear all about Peter soon, but first, leave me a review and let me now what you thought. Personally, I didn't like this chapter, JustValiant1717 I know you will probably insist it was brilliant regardless, but I had to sort the mess I made last chaper out somehow and this was the best I could do.**

 **Cheers,**

 **A**


	10. Dreams of Treachery

**Thank you all so much for the lovely reviews! I am so happy you are all still enjoying this story :-) This chapter officially makes this story the longest I have posted here, though not the longest I have written. Exciting, right?**

Getting into the city was rather easier than any of them had expected. They had set out at dawn; arming themselves with weapons taken from the dead guards, though Metelus protested loudly that Edmund was in no condition to fight and he himself did not know how. Trebonius had merely shaken his head and handed the faun a sword anyway. The only difficult bit was finding a cart low enough to the ground and moving slowly enough that they could scramble into the back of it, and it took several failed attempts, a good many muttered curses on Edmund's part, and over an hour before they succeeded in climbing, undetected, into a wagon of hay.

Edmund slumped gratefully against the side of the wagon heartbeat thudding erratically with the effort of keeping his breathing shallow and steady. His whole body ached, but it was his chest and back that pained him most. He wasn't entirely sure how he managed to get to his feet that morning, to walk with some semblance of strength he did not have, and to carry out his plan successfully, at least this far, but he had, and that was what mattered. Metelus put a hand on his shoulder, expression worried, and Edmund realised that, despite his best efforts, he had not fooled the wise old faun into thinking he was well enough to safely carry through with his plan.

Before Metelus could speak the giant pulling the cart slowed his pace, and Edmund knew they were nearing the gates. The three Narnians pulled their cloaks up and hid themselves as best they could in the hay as the cart jostled along the last few yards up to the gate.

The thudding of the giants' footsteps and the loud, harsh tones of their voices as they called out to each other seemed to surround him, threatening to drag him back into the memory of crushing blackness and the smell of blood. He clenched his hands into fists, fingernails cutting into his palms

"Your majesty, we must slip away now or we risk discovery." They were through the gate and Trebonius was whispering urgently in his ear, but the satyr's voice seemed very far away. He was trapped in the dark, unable to move or breathe, the weight of dead Narnians crushing him. Someone grabbed his arm, pulled him to his feet, and a moment later they were all three tumbling from the cart to the stones of the city street. The hand did not release his arm, instead it half dragged him for a few feet until he found his back against a wall. He forced his eyes to open, had not realised until that moment that they had been closed, and found himself facing a nearly panicked satyr and faun.

"King Edmund?" He shook his head and pressed his hands against his aching temples, trying to force his breathing to calm. _What is wrong with me?!_ His hands were shaking, his breath came in uneven gasps, and the terror of the memory threatened to overwhelm him. "King Edmund?" Metelus was bending over him; Trebonius hovering in the background. "We must move; can you stand?"

Edmund nodded blindly and accepted the faun's help in regaining his feet. The giants bustled through the streets around them, but luckily no one had seemed to notice three, ragged figures falling from the back of a wagon.

They slipped, unnoticed through the streets until the castle walls loomed up before them, then turned aside before they reached the gates. The wall ran in a near circle around the keep and Edmund could only hope they reached the stable door before his legs decided to stop working and he found himself sprawled on the stones of the street. Trebonius steadied him with a hand on his arm when he stumbled, nearly falling, and Edmund nodded gratefully to him and didn't protest when the satyr retained his hold on his arm.

The sun was high in the sky when they at last saw the little door, nearly hidden behind a curtain of ivy that draped the castle wall. It looked like it had not been used in years, possibly even centuries. The sturdy oak was slowly rotting, though it still looked solid enough to withstand a good amount of force, and the iron reinforcements and handle were covered with rust. Nearly holding his breath and sending up a silent prayer to Aslan that he would not find it locked Edmund grasped the handle and pulled. Nothing happened; the door was stuck fast, not locked, for the latch lifted easily enough, but stuck nonetheless.

"The wood has expanded through years of damp," said Metelus quietly. "The door no longer fits the frame."

"We could try breaking it down," Trebonius suggested, lifting his heavy axe and stepping forward as if to try.

Edmund shook his head crossly. "We can't risk the amount of noise that would make." He tugged angrily on the door, throwing his weight backwards, and thought he felt it shift slightly. At the same moment, they heard the thudding footsteps of a giant, approaching from the way they had come. Edmund gave the door one last, frantic pull and it swung outward, hinges creaking alarmingly. The sudden lack of resistance sent Edmund stumbling backwards and his chest exploded in pain, cutting off his air, as his knees buckled.

Trebonius caught him before he could hit the ground and half dragged, half carried him through the door; Metelus pulled it closed behind them just as the giant rounded the corner. They slumped against the wall, holding their breath, or in Edmund's case trying frantically to breathe, and listened as the footsteps paused in front of the door. A moment later they moved on, slightly slower than before, as if the giant were still watching to see if someone would emerge from the ivy, but eventually they passed by and faded into the distance.

Suddenly Trebonius cursed and Edmund looked up, blinking away the dark specks that danced across his vision, straight at a terrified looking stable boy. He was one of the Green Lady's servants, maybe only twelve years old, and it was obvious to all three that if he could have screamed he would have. He stared at the intruders for a moment, a look of pure terror on his face, then turned and ran, disappearing into a door before Trebonius could stop him.

"He will be going to fetch his mistress," said Edmund grimly, staggering shakily to his feet. "We need to hurry."

"With all respect, my king, we must abandon our plan. It is my duty to safeguard the rulers of Narnia; I have failed you since the first moment, but I cannot now allow you to endanger yourself further." Trebonius bowed his head as he spoke, obviously expecting an enraged response. "Our whole plan hinges upon remaining undiscovered and we have just been discovered."

Edmund didn't even have the energy to glare at him; he knew the satyr was right, and admired his bravery in questioning his king, but they had not come this far only to turn back. He shook his head and stumbled towards the stables. "Accompany me if you will, turn back if you must, but do not attempt to prevent me from going on." For a moment, it seemed that Trebonius would argue, then he bowed slightly and followed, exchanging a desperate look with Metelus. Humans really were the most stubborn creatures either of them had ever met.

* * *

There was music when Peter awoke. It was not the haunting melody that had drawn him to walk the moors, but it was just as beautiful, a light, airy melody that made him think of sunlit glades and the shifting shadows of spring leaves. His head ached terribly and he was reminded of the first, and only time, he had drunk far too much wine at a feast. Edmund had laughed at him the next morning, obviously greatly amused by finding Peter even crosser than he usually was himself in the mornings. _Edmund!_

His eyes flew open, sudden terror flooding through his veins. The Green Lady set aside her harp, though the music seemed to remain, hanging sweetly in the air, and swept to his side. "Where's Edmund?" Peter demanded, remembering how he had stood frozen while his brother fell; remembering too Edmund's warnings about the Lady being a witch. _I should have listened; why didn't I listen?_ "What did you do to me? I couldn't help them!"

The Lady put a cool hand against his forehead, pushing him back as he tried to sit up. "Dear king, you have been ill; I fear the shock has quite robbed you of your wits. Rest; you will be well again soon." Her smile was so kind, so beautiful, and Peter felt a strange drowsiness sweep over him.

He fought it, forced his eyes to remain open, trying to clear his mind of the echoing music. "Edmund was right, you are a witch!" He tried to push her hand away, but his limbs were leaden.

She laughed sweetly, genuine amusement dancing in her bright green eyes. "A witch, dear king? Yes, I suppose, though witchcraft is hardly the correct term for the few skills I possess. But surely," she leaned nearer to him, her hair nearly brushing his face. "Surely you cannot believe I would harm you or your dear siblings? I have merely tried to help you; do not be so callow as to betray my kindness with suspicion."

Peter tried to look away from her eyes, tried to blink, to push away the strange dreamlike feeling, but her eyes were fixed on his and the smell of apple blossoms that clung to her hair filled his senses and dulled his wits. Of course, she wasn't trying to hurt him; she was trying to help him. It was rude to suspect her of any dark intention when all she had done was try to help him; Edmund had been a fool to doubt her. He slumped back against the pillows, suddenly exhausted.

"There," said the Lady, picking up her harp. "That's better, isn't it? Would you like to know what has happened while you've been asleep? I fear it will be a terrible shock for you to hear."

Peter nodded, his head throbbing, as the Lady began to play her harp again, long fingers caressing the strings gently as music flowed through the air. "You have slept for the better part of two days, dear king, and in that time, we have discovered much." The music changed, growing darker, and Peter closed his eyes, strange, shadowy images dancing through his mind.

He saw Edmund and Lucy slipping through the gigantic hallways, their faces, which were illuminated by flickering candlelight, looked strange and fierce. Lucy carried a dagger in her hand and Edmund's sword was drawn. "Your brother and sister hatched a dreadful plot without your knowledge," the Lady said, her voice scarcely above a whisper and the music dark and brooding. The giant's Queen lay in her bed, her eyes closed in sleep and Lucy stood over her, dagger flashing as she drove it into the Queen's throat. Edmund stood watch at the door, and called a warning as footsteps approached. Lucy tried to tug her dagger free and blood soaked her hands; the dagger was stuck fast and Lucy turned away leaping lightly down from the bed.

"Lucy, your dagger! You'll be blamed instead of Peter if you leave it here!" whispered the shadowy figure of Edmund fiercely.

"There's no time," Lucy snarled back, sounding quite unlike her usually sweet self. "We'll come back for it; just go!"

"They killed the Queen, hoping you would be blamed for it, but they could not retrieve the dagger in time and we uncovered the whole plot through the use of my magic. Your traitorous brother is dead, and your sister awaits the punishment for her crime in the King's dungeons."

Peter shook his head weakly; it didn't make sense. _Edmund wasn't dead; he couldn't be._ _Lucy, she couldn't, she didn't. Edmund wouldn't betray me; they wouldn't try to cause me harm._

"But Edmund was a traitor once," The Lady whispered softly. "Your siblings want to rule Narnia themselves; they don't want to live in your shadow forever, High King."

 _No! It isn't true, something isn't right. It doesn't make sense; why would I be blamed?_ But his mind was terribly sluggish, and the music was so beautiful, and the Lady would not lie. She was too good, too beautiful, too kind. She would not lie to cause him pain; she wanted only to help him. His eyes burned with tears. _How could they betray me; how could Edmund?_ But Edmund was dead, and it was for his death, not his betrayal that Peter wept.

"Rest, dear king, you must accompany me to the feast tonight or it will be seen as a great insult to the King. You may yet avoid war between our two great nations," she laughed gently. "But you are weary, and we will speak of that later." The music turned wistful, took on a dream like quality, and swept him up, carrying him far away until he could not remember who he was or why there were tears in his eyes.

The Lady watched him, smiling, though it was no longer a gentle, sweet smile. Her eyes burned with a greedy light. "Soon, dear fool, soon your land will be mine, as it should have been from the first. Soon my mother will be avenged, and your soul will be mine." She brushed a strand of hair back from his face, almost tenderly, and set her harp aside. She did not need the music any longer; the High King was so deeply caught in her web of enchantment that the music was not needed to control his mind any longer.

The door burst open and one of her servants stared at her with horrified eyes. She looked at him in disgust, anger at being disturbed rising within her, and raised her hand to cast such a spell upon the boy that he would never dare approach her again. Then, as she looked inside his mind to find what had been so important to risk her wrath, she saw three figures, Narnians by their dress and bearing. One was a satyr, a massive axe in his hands, two swords strapped across his back, the second was a very old faun, terrified and shaking, but the third was the youngest king. The boy was pale, face streaked with blood and dark with bruises, lips nearly blue as he struggled to breathe, but in his eyes burned a fierce determination. It was the look of someone who would pursue her relentlessly, someone who would fight until his last breath for those he loved; she snapped her fingers and the servant's head snapped back, his neck broken. She watched him fall, but could not banish the unfamiliar, icy fear; there had been the look of death in the Narnian king's eyes, and it as her death as likely as it was his own.

She swept from the room, scattering frantic servants before her, as her feet carried her towards the stables. It would be his death; he should be dead already, should not have survived what the giants had done to him, but he would be dead soon. She vowed it silently as she walked, pushing back the fear in favour of anger. How dare this boy stand against her and disrupt her careful plans? Narnia would be hers; the boy would die, there was no other way it could end. She smiled.

 **Uh oh! Looks like nothing is going right; Edmund probably should have left while he still could...although he wouldn't be Edmund if he wasn't stubborn. And Peter, I know you're enchanted but how can you believe Edmund and Lucy would ever betray you! Oh wait, I'm the author...I feel like I shouldn't be asking these questions...Next chapter coming soon, and it will be a long one and will introduce, or reintroduce, another OC, so keep reading because this story is far from over! Leave me a review if you have time :-)**

 **Cheers,**

 **A**


	11. Courage, Dear Ones-Part I

**Here we go! This chapter ended up getting split into two parts because it was originally 5,000 words long...that's a little too long, so the second half will be posted soon. Still don't own Narnia; also, thank you to my wonderful reviewers! :-)**

No one else appeared to challenge them as they crossed the courtyard to the stables, and all their spirits lifted greatly when they heard the familiar sounds of the Dogs arguing loudly.

"I'm telling you; I smell human!" A Dog was insisting breathlessly.

Another voice, unmistakably Phillip's responded in an annoyed tone. "Of course you do Linus; these disgraceful ingrates are human."

"Not these humans!" Insisted Linus, who Edmund remembered was the grey wolfhound who led the pack. "One of our humans!"

"He's quite right Phillip," said Edmund, smirking as he stepped through the door; he instantly regretted surprising an entire pack of Dogs, for they inevitably began to bark and rushed at him, tails wagging and tongues lolling from their mouths. At the last moment, they skidded to a stop and dropped down to sit in a shifting, eager circle around his feet.

"Greetings, cousins," he said, laughing despite the seriousness of the situation.

"King Edmund! We thought you were dead," Linus declared happily, head tilting to one side as he smiled in his wolfish manner.

Edmund nodded; he had expected that. He looked past the pack of Dogs, rather concerned by Phillip's silence; the Horse was staring at him like he had seen a ghost and Edmund supposed that, in a manner of speaking he had. He shook his mane and stepped forward, almost timidly, picking his way between the Dogs until his head nearly rested on Edmund's shoulders. He blew out a deep, warm breath and nuzzled through the boy's hair, as if checking to insure he was real. Edmund smiled and put an arm around the Horse's neck, temporarily forgetting the urgency required by their mission.

"That witch said you were dead; when will you learn not to be a fool?" But the affection in his voice robbed his words of any harshness and Edmund knew he had been worried. "You look half dead at any rate." He nudged Edmund's shoulder affectionately with his nose.

Trebonius shifted his weight impatiently. "King Edmund? Perhaps this conversation can be continued once we are safely outside these walls?"

"Quite right." Edmund gritted his teeth at the thought of how Phillip was going to react to his latest plan; perhaps it would be better not to tell him until he had no choice but to accept it. They crossed back through the courtyard, with Edmund leaning heavily on Phillip. He took that opportunity to tell the faithful Horse all he felt he safely could. "I need you to go back to Cair Paravel; tell Susan to send the army. Lucy has been accused of murdering the giants' Queen and Peter is enchanted by the Green Lady; he will be of little help to us." _If any,_ he reflected grimly, remembering the shock it had taken to free him from the Witch's enchantment.

Phillip nudged his shoulder; whiskers tickling Edmund's ear. "And you?"

"I'm staying here with Trebonius and Metelus; perhaps we can rescue Lucy, or help break the enchantment cast on Peter." It wasn't strictly a lie but he still felt guilty for omitting part of the truth.

Phillip snorted. "Send the Dogs; I will not leave you here. You'll do something foolish without me to watch over you."

"Dogs exaggerate; if I don't send someone sensible with them they'll have Susan thinking we've all been baked into pies and eaten. Don't argue," this as Phillip stamped his hooves crossly. "You know I speak the truth."

"Very well," conceded the Horse. "But you and I will have words about this when I return." Edmund smiled fondly at him; Phillip alone of all his Narnian friends never hesitated to speak to him as a friend and equal, rather than a king. They reached the door and he threw his arms around the Horse's before stepping to the side to allow the rest of the company to push their way through the curtain of ivy onto the, hopefully, deserted street. Edmund followed the others, making sure no giants were in view, before he stopped, just outside the door.

"Get them to safety," Edmund told Trebonius firmly, stepping back, towards the threshold and the courtyard as the Dogs poured past him through the door in a, for once, silent column. "Send Phillip and Linus to Susan at Cair Paravel."

Phillip planted his hooves and snorted in anger. "Edmund! Don't be a fool, you can't stay here!" Trebonius looked rather inclined to agree with the Horse but he did not dare to directly defy the orders of his king. Edmund nodded to the Captain, silently warning him not to argue, and stepped back pulling the door closed after him. Phillip screamed in rage and Edmund barely had time to fasten the door and pull the bolt across it before the Horse's hooves thudded against it, shaking the already weakened wood. "Edmund! Open the door!"

Edmund backed away, eyes burning. "Phillip, go! As your king, I order you to follow Trebonius!" The door shook again as Phillip threw his weight against it with another furious neigh; the noise was sure to attract notice before long and Edmund cursed under his breath. "Trebonius, make sure he leaves, then hide yourselves near the city. Wait for Orieus and the army; I will join you if I can." He listened as there was a brief struggle from the other side of the door as the Satyr fought to pull Phillip away, then he heard the scuffle of the Dog's paws and the clop of the other's hooves fade into the distance. He was alone; he squared his shoulders and turned away from the door, only to find that he was not in fact, alone. The Green Lady stood there, between him and the stables, smiling sweetly in a way that was not at all pleasant.

"Dear king! I'm so pleased to see that you're alive after all; your brother will be delighted to see you as well." She held out a hand to him. "Let's go see him, shall we?"

"What have you done with Peter?" Edmund demanded, backing away until he felt the wood of the door directly behind him; Metelus had been right, he was in no condition to fight.

"Now, dear boy, don't be foolish," her eyes flashed with sudden rage, though she still smiled. "Your charming brother is quite safe, in fact, I think he's rather happy here. Perhaps I'll keep him, and as for you, why don't you come along to see him?" Her voice took on a strange, musical quality and she stepped towards him slowly, her movements somehow reminiscent of a snake's. Edmund edged away from her, feeling his way along the wall; if he could shift far enough to her left without her noticing he might be able to slip past her and make it across the courtyard to the door which led back into the main rooms. _And then what?_ But it was the best option he had.

The Lady stretched out her hand towards him and snapped her fingers; it was a strange action, and even stranger was the look of shock on her face when nothing happened. Her face contorted into a snarl, all semblance of smiles and sweetness gone in an instant as her cheeks flushed crimson with fury. She snapped her fingers again and still nothing happened. "What have you done to me?!" Edmund saw his chance and darted past her, shoving outward with his arm as he did so, hoping to unbalance her and give himself a moment's head start at least.

He stumbled on the uneven paving stones, nearly fell, and staggered on. The Green Lady had regained her balance and, by the time he reached the doors, she was scarcely five feet behind him. He could hear her calling out indecipherable words which might have been attempts at spells, or simply unfamiliar curses, but whatever they were they had no effect. A doorway opened to his left and he darted through it, the Lady nearly catching up with him. He slammed the door behind him and lent against it; holding his breath as he heard her footsteps approach, pause, and then continue on.

He slumped back against the door, coughing painfully, and trying to steady his shaking muscles. _Don't collapse now; find Peter, find Lucy._

"You're dead." He froze, realising too late that he had not run into an empty room after all. Peter stood on the other side of the room, expression blank; eyes wide and unfocused, as he stared past Edmund.

"Peter?" Edmund took a cautious step forward, unsure how his brother might react.

"You're dead," he repeated, in the same, strange voice. "You betrayed me, and now you're dead."

"Peter; it's alright. Whatever she told you she was lying." The look in Peter's eyes frightened him more than he was willing to admit. "I need you to believe me now; this Lady is a witch. She-"

"I know," Peter interrupted quietly. "But all she has done since the first moment we met her has been to show us kindness, and all you have done is accuse her and doubt her intentions. Did you really think I would take the word of a traitor above the word of my Lady?" _My Lady; traitor._ Edmund was not sure which statement caused him more pain; the one that proved his brother, enchanted though he was, believed himself to be in love with a witch, or the one that showed him just how far gone Peter was to accuse him of being a traitor still.

Edmund wanted to scream, not that it would do any good, or possibly punch Peter, not that he was currently strong enough for that to do any good either. There was a dangerous glint in Peter's unfocused blue eyes, not unlike the one he had seen in the Green Lady's in the courtyard. "You are still my brother, traitor or no," Peter continued, coldly, as if the words meant nothing. "Because of that I will give you a choice. Leave now; go home, rule Narnia without me, that is what you wanted all along, isn't it?"

"And if I refuse?" _Peter, please, don't let her do this to you. Fight her; you have to fight her._

"Then, brother or no, I will kill you myself for your betrayal." And there could be no doubt that Peter meant what he said.

 _Courage, dear one._ It was the faintest whisper of sound, or a memory of sound, he could not tell which, but the words gave him strength. He half expected to see the golden form of a Lion emerge from the shadows, but even though he could not see Aslan he knew the Lion was with him. _Have courage._ And he knew then what he must do. He drew his sword and knelt, holding the weapon towards his brother, hilt first.

"Then kill me. I made my choice years ago when you ordered me to leave your side at the Battle of Beruna and I disobeyed you. I stand by that choice now, High King, and I stand by the vow I made on our coronation day. I will serve at your side, my brother; I will guard your back, shield you from what dangers I may, share in your joy and in your sorrow; till Aslan command me otherwise or death take me."

For a moment, it seemed as though the words had some effect. Peter blinked, his eyes clearing briefly, gleaming with sudden tears, then the mask was back. He nodded sharply and took the sword.

 _Courage, even now, Just King; have courage._ Edmund bowed his head and waited.

* * *

 _Some Days Later:_

"Queen Susan! Queen Susan!" Susan looked up from her needlework with a sigh; it really was frustrating being the only monarch left in Cair Paravel. It seemed that the moment she settled down to do anything someone arrived needing documents signed, disputes settled, or merely wanting to invite her to tea. She smiled at the enormous grey wolfhound standing before her with as much grace as she could muster and set her work aside.

"Yes, good cousin? What is it?"

The hound panted heavily, tongue hanging out if his mouth, and Susan with a sense of shock that he appeared to be in a rather sorry state. His fur was matted and caked with mud, his ribs showing beneath the filthy coat, and he held one paw slightly off the ground, as if it was painful to rest his weight upon it.

"I bring a message, from your brother King Edmund. You must rally the army and ride for the giants' city with all haste. Your sister is accused of murder, your brother the High King has fallen prey to some foul enchantment, the guards have been slaughtered, and King Edmund wounded." He swayed on his paws, looking ready to collapse.

Susan felt her own head spin alarmingly as she stared at him, trying to comprehend the stream of dreadful words she had just heard. "What?" She asked, feeling rather stupid. "I-How has this happened?"

The hound shook his head. "I do not know; I know only what King Edmund bid me tell you, and that he is wounded. Phillip and I have run all the way from Harfang." Susan could hardly doubt that he had run from Harfang, but, as for the rest, Dogs were very prone to exaggeration and she vowed not to think the worst until she had confirmed his story.

"Where is Phillip?" _Surely Phillip would not have left Edmund if he was badly hurt. Perhaps the situation is not as grave as he says._

"In the courtyard, your majesty; talking with Orieus."

"You have done well." Susan forced a smile. "Go, rest, and have the healers see to you." She barely waited to see his bow in response as she half ran to the courtyard. Phillip was indeed there, looking, if possible, more thin and disheveled than the Dog; even his tail drooped, nearly dragging along the paving stones. Orieus stood next to him, head bowed as he listened to what Phillip was telling him, hands resting on the hilts of his two swords. Susan saw the tension in his shoulders, the uneasy shifting of his hooves, and knew.

"Phillip! What has happened?" Horse and Centaur both turned at her voice and Orieus bowed, face set in a scowl and dark eyes blazing anger.

"My Queen; we have been most grievously deceived. The giants' Queen has been murdered, and your sister Queen Lucy stands accused. King Edmund sends word that the High King has been enchanted by some foul witch and requests we rally to his aid with all haste, else both Queen Lucy and High King Peter may be lost." An avalanche might have struck her with less force than the Centaur's words. Susan stumbled back, feeling her face drain of all colour, and sank to her knees, fighting back tears.

 _I'm not ready for this. I knew they should not have gone; why did I not make them stay?_ Orieus bent over her, concern replacing anger in his expression. Susan waved him away, impatient at her own reaction. "What of Edmund?" She asked Phillip shakily a moment later. "The Dog said he was wounded."

Phillip flattened his ears against his skull and stamped his hooves, angry despite his exhaustion. "He is a damnable fool, that is what he is!" And before either Orieus or Susan could respond to his strange outburst he turned and walked away head hanging low, but from exhaustion or grief, Susan could not tell.

"Shall I call the army together, your majesty?"

Susan stared at the general for a moment, barely comprehending. _The army; he's waiting for my order. Aslan help me! I'm not ready for this!_ "Yes," and she was rather proud of how steady her voice was. "Give the order, General." _Please let them be alright; please don't let me send my people into a slaughter._

 _Have courage, Gentle Queen._ The voice of the Lion whispered in her ear. _Fear not for your siblings; they are between My paws._

"Orieus?" Susan straightened her shoulders and stood. "Send for Tumnus. He has charge of Cair Paravel in my absence; I will accompany the army."

 **Ummm...okay, please don't kill me. This chapter was horrible to write...I fought with t for hours and it still doesn't sound quite right, but it's late and I'm tired and cross, and I really wanted to post today. If you have a spare thirty seconds please leave a review anyway; hopefully the next half of this chapter will be better!**

 **Cheers,**

 **A**


	12. Courage, Dear Ones-Part II

**First off, sorry for the evil cliffhanger in the middle of the previous chapter...I simply couldn't resist! Second, and more importantly, I have a beta reader! The amazing PaintingMusic14 was kind enough to help with this chapter and she did an amazing job! Thirdly, thank you to everyone who has reviewed; you are all awesome! And now, on to the resolution of the last chapter's cliffhanger!**

Lucy shivered and drew her knees up to her chest; she wished she had her cloak, but then again, she wished a lot of things at the moment. The confidence she had felt while standing up to the King had lasted until the moment she was thrown back into the dark cell and the door was locked behind her. It wasn't that her trust in Aslan had waned, it hadn't, but it is rather more difficult to be brave, even if you still have faith, when you are locked in a room with no one to see your tears.

"I'm not going to cry," she said aloud, stubbornly, into the darkness. "I am a queen, not a child." She sniffled miserably; she was brave, she was a queen, but regardless she w _as_ still a child. She wished Susan were there, not with her in the cell, but there to comfort her, fuss over the mess she had made of her hair; anything really. But Susan was far, far away in Cair Paravel, and Lucy hoped, safe. If Peter were there he would wrap his arms around her and protect her from whatever dangers, real or imagined, threatened her. But Peter was not there; he was enchanted, so unlike himself that Lucy doubted he would have comforted her even if he was with her. Edmund- _"He is dead."_ At least, that was what the King claimed. _He can't really be dead; he can't!_ But she decided it might be best not to think about Edmund.

"Don't be a fool Lucy," she said, in her best imitation of Susan at her most motherly. "Of course he isn't dead and Peter will come to his senses soon enough." She sniffled again, and decided to blame it on the cold that seeped from the stones and seemed to settle as a dull ache in her bones.

"Oh Aslan, I'm not brave enough; I'm frightened. I trust You, I know You have a plan and this will all come right in the end, but I do wish You would tell me how."

 _Courage, Valiant Queen._

"Aslan?" She blinked and peered through the darkness, trying to catch a glimpse of the Lion's golden fur. Something warm and soft brushed against her side and she leaned into it. "Aslan! You're here!"

The Lion purred, the sound rumbling up from within His deep chest and shaking the fur Lucy leaned against. "I am always here, dear one, though you may not always see me."

"Please, can't you tell me if my brothers are alright? I'm terribly worried about Edmund."

"Peter is well in body, though his mind is deeply troubled by the enchantment of this witch's magic." Aslan growled almost imperceptibly. "He has forgotten his faith and his duty to Narnia in his eagerness to believe her lies."

"Can't anything be done?" Lucy buried her face in the Lion's mane, wanting desperately to cry but dreadfully ashamed of needing to. "And what about Edmund?"

"Child, I cannot tell you what must be done for Peter, for that is not a part of your own story," He sounded faintly amused. "As for Edmund, he is in My keeping."

"Yes, but is he alive?"

"Lucy, why do you need to know? Is it not enough to know that I am watching over him?" There was the faintest hint of a growl in His voice and Lucy felt her cheeks flush with shame.

"Yes, Aslan; I'm sorry. I'm trying to be brave, but I'm so terribly afraid." A tear slid from the corner of one eye and was lost in the sea of golden fur.

"Do not be ashamed of your tears, Lucy. Bravery is not an absence of fear, dear heart; it is continuing on despite that fear. You are brave enough for what will be required of you." She felt Him stand and a moment later He touched her forehead with His nose; then He was gone, but something of the warmth He had brought with Him remained.

Lucy rested her forehead against her knees and cried. It was not the kind of crying that always left her with a terrible headache and the knowledge that nothing had been made better by it; instead it was the type that always made her feel very tired, but somehow more hopeful, as if she had finally been able to let go of the fears and doubts that troubled her.

She dried her eyes at last and lay down, curling up with her back against the wall and her head turned towards the door. A wonderful feeling of warmth swept over her, almost as wonderful as the warmth of the Lion's mane, and she fell asleep, as comfortably and peacefully as if she had been in her own bed at Cair Paravel.

* * *

Peter did not feel quite like himself, but he wasn't sure what had changed. It wasn't exactly an unpleasant feeling, he felt rather good in fact, but somehow unlike the way he usually felt. His siblings had betrayed him; Edmund was a traitor and dead; Lucy locked in a cell for murder, but somehow, he couldn't really care. He felt that perhaps he should be ashamed by it, but really, Edmund and Susan neither of whom were currently present, were the only ones who would have dared to scold him about it.

All in all, he was in rather good spirits as he dressed for the feast; he was just buckling his sword belt around his waist when the door to his room flew open and Edmund burst in, looking pale enough that Peter wasn't entirely sure he wasn't dead after all. He slammed the door, making Peter's head ache, and leaned against it, breathing hard and looking as though he might collapse at any moment.

"You're dead," and that was really all he could think to say as he stared past his brother at the door. _I wonder what my Lady wants me to do about this; he is a traitor, after all._ It did not occur to him to wonder when he had begun thinking of her as _his_ Lady.

"Peter?" Edmund took a tentative step towards him and Peter felt a vague sense of disgust. _How dare he speak to me as if he's done nothing wrong?_

"You're dead," Peter insisted; Edmund had to be dead if his Lady said so. "You betrayed me, and now you're dead." _It's really quite simple, if you think about it._

"Peter, it's alright. Whatever she told you she was lying." Now that really was taking things much too far! Peter started to feel angry, but it was a strangely clumsy kind of anger, as if he couldn't quite be sure who it was directed at. "I need you to believe me now; this Lady is a witch. She-" Peter clenched his hands into fists. _How dare he!_

"I know, but all she has done since the first moment we met her has been to show us kindness, and all you have done is accuse her and doubt her intentions. Did you really think I would take the word of a traitor above the word of my Lady?" _My Lady; my Lady who was there for me when you were not; I will hear no insult against her!_ His head was spinning, throbbing painfully, and he heard his next words from a distance, as if they were not his own. _Brother; traitor. Brother._ The words seemed to circle endlessly in his mind, even as he spoke, keeping rhythm with the pounding in his head. _The Lady has been kind; she has helped me. Edmund has betrayed me; Edmund is dead already._ "I will kill you myself for your betrayal." _No! Take it back, you fool, take it back; you don't mean it. But the Lady wishes it; my Lady wishes it. Edmund, I'm sorry, I don't mean it. Help me; Eddie, please, help me!_

Peter shook his head, clearing it of the strange, jumbled thoughts and glared at his brother. Edmund's face was pale and set with pain but as Peter watched it changed, the set of his jaw relaxed, his eyes lost some of their haunted look, and such a look of quiet faith swept across his features that Peter nearly forgot how much he was supposed to hate him. Edmund drew his sword and offered it to him, kneeling as he did so.

 _Edmund! Whatever you are doing, please don't. Please! She's too strong; I can't fight her._ "Then kill me." He heard his brother say distantly. "I made my choice years ago when you ordered me to leave the battle at Beruna and I disobeyed you. I stand by that choice now, High King, and I stand by the vow I made on our coronation day. I will serve at your side, my brother; I will guard your back, shield you from what dangers I may, share in your joy and in your sorrow; till Aslan command me otherwise or death take me." _Edmund! Please; don't make me guilty of this. I can't bear it! Aslan! Help me! I can't bear it!_ He felt tears spring to his eyes and felt a momentary flash of desperate hope that maybe, somehow, he could fight against the Lady's enchantment. Then he stepped forward, took the sword, and felt the hope die. Edmund bowed his head.

Peter felt his hands shake as he lifted the sword; ready to strike.

 _Remember your own vow, High King._

Peter trembled at the Lion's voice. "I will serve at your side, my brother; I will strike down your enemies, for your enemies are my own, I will protect you from what dangers I can, share in your triumphs and your defeats; till Aslan command me otherwise or death take me." He heard his own voice, as if from a distance, weak and uncertain at first, but growing steadily stronger with every word. The sword fell from his hands and clattered against the stone floor as Peter dropped to his knees before his brother and embraced him.

"You're alive!" Until that moment he had not been sure, had not consciously been able to cut through the fog of enchantment for long enough to know what was truly real.

"Nice of you to notice," Edmund said, returning his embrace a little stiffly. Peter tightened his hold, as if afraid Edmund would vanish into thin air, and felt his brother tense as he drew in his breath sharply.

"You're hurt!" His mind was still sluggish, trying slowly to catch up with events. He shifted back, suddenly terrified of hurting Edmund further. "I'm sorry; I'm so sorry."

Edmund smirked. "I'm fine; I still wouldn't recommend being tossed around by a giant though, and this is twice in as many weeks."

Peter looked away, suddenly unable to meet his brother's eyes. _So, this is what it feels like to be a traitor to everyone you love._ "I'm sorry, Edmund, I'm so sorry." But the words weren't enough would never be enough to erase the past days.

"Save it, Peter. It isn't your fault and we haven't the time for guilt right now." His voice was anything but unkind, but Peter almost wished it had been. He nodded nonetheless and got to his feet, offering a hand to Edmund when he didn't stand on his own. Edmund shook his head, lips a rather alarming shade of blue, and stayed where he was. "Just…give me a moment." He smiled, but Peter found it was hardly convincing.

"We need to find Lucy." _I owe her an apology almost as much as I owe you one._ "Do you know where she is?"

Edmund shook his head again, still making no move to stand. "I was rather hoping you did. I ran into the Green Lady in the courtyard before I could do any scouting and then I came blundering in here. But," he frowned, obviously thinking hard. "If I had hatched a devious plot to trap rival rulers by framing them for murder I would jolly well want to show off my success."

"You think the King will present her at the feast tonight and publicly accuse her? Do you think he would dare?"

"As far as he knows I'm dead, or about to be, and you're a blithering idiot, no offense; I don't think there's much he wouldn't dare to do at this point." He staggered to his feet at last and Peter steadied him quickly as he swayed.

"Ed, you really don't look well; how bad is it this time?" Peter frowned, trying to remember exactly where the giant had struck him; exactly how he had impacted against the wall, but his mind was still hazy.

"It will keep." Again, the unconvincing smile, and Peter's sense of guilt grew. _It's my fault; all of this is my fault._ "I think our best chance is to slip into the feast somehow and try to get Lucy out. Trebonius, Metelus, and most of the Dogs are waiting somewhere near the city."

"For all this witch knows, her enchantment still has hold of me; if I don't give her cause to be suspicious she'll have me accompany her to the feast as she planned. If you stay here you should be safe for a couple hours; once the giants are too drunk to stop me I can slip away with Lucy and meet you near the stables." Peter saw something akin to distrust flash across Edmund's face, it was gone so swiftly that he might almost have imagined it, but he knew he had not. _And why should he trust me? I could just as easily only be pretending to be free of her cursed enchantment._ Then, unbelievably, Edmund nodded.

"It's a solid plan, well, as solid as any plans we can currently make are likely to be, but I'm coming with you."

"No."

"Don't argue, Peter, it's too risky otherwise."

"It's too risky if you do come! You're supposed to be dead; she only let come in here so I would kill you." _Which I very nearly did._

"I don't care. I'll sneak in while she's distracted by being absolutely charming to you and everyone else she can fool." Edmund scowled at the floor. "Sorry, I don't mean to sound as if I blame you."

Peter shook his head in amazement. Ten minutes ago, he had nearly killed Edmund, and now, here he was, already finding something to apologise for. "Alright, but only because I know you'll come along anyway. I'd rather know about it and be able to watch out for you."

Edmund grinned and clapped him on the shoulder as affectionately as if Peter had done nothing wrong. "I'm glad to know we understand each other."

 _I don't think I will ever understand how you can be so forgiving._ But Peter smiled and heard the voice of the Lion once more. _Have courage and be steadfast, High King; for I am always with you._

 **Peter is back; yay! It's about time honestly, I was getting quite tired of him behaving like an ass. I was rather reluctant to recount the same events over again, but felt that Peter's perspective during his conversation was necessary so I decided to do it anyway; I hope the repetition of parts of the dialogue wasn't too boring. The next chapter will be coming soon, probably not tomorrow, but we'll see. (I feel like I always overestimate the time it will take me to update.) Thank you again to PaintingMusic14 for betaing and to everyone else who is reading. Leave me a review if you can! :-)**

 **Cheers,**

 **A**


	13. To The Frozen North

**Many thanks once again to PaintingMusic14 for making this chapter presentable, and to all of you who have read and reviewed! I have a new poll on profile where you can vote on what you would like to see me write next after completing this story. The appearance of a poll does not indicate that this story is drawing to a close, there are still several chapters needed to resolve the mess I've created this time. Many thanks to everyone for continuing to read...hopefully this story isn't becoming too long to hold your interest :-)**

 _Some Weeks Later:_

Susan stared at the enormous city with a feeling of horror; this was what they had come to lay siege to if the giants refused to negotiate? _It's impossible!_ The city walls loomed two hundred feet high; solid blocks of granite the size of entire rooms at Cair Paravel were stacked and fitted together to create the barrier. She did not doubt that the castle wall itself would be even more difficult to breach, assuming of course that they made it that far.

Orieus halted beside her and his expression was far from encouraging. It had been difficult enough to gather the army, get them outfitted and provisioned, and march across Ettinsmoor in the first blizzard of the approaching winter, but seeing the expression on the General's face Susan knew that had been the easy part. "Your majesty?"

"What is it Orieus?" _Please, let it be good news._ "Have the scouts returned?"

He nodded, expression inscrutable. "They have. The gryphons report seeing signs of a small group of Narnians camped in the crags beyond the city; they could not risk betraying their location by landing. We await your orders, my queen."

Susan shivered, not entirely from the cold wind that cut through her heavy cloak and turned her mail icy. "You've led us this far; I defer to your experience and judgement."

Orieus shifted his weight, staring up at the city walls. "Then I suggest we organise a small party to negotiate with this giantish King and under cover of that distraction send a small party to retrieve our people. We cannot risk attacking the city itself until we know what has become of your royal siblings."

"Will you lead these negotiations, Orieus?"

"If that is your wish but would it not be better if you did so yourself?" She knew him well enough to understand that he feared losing his temper if placed in charge of negotiating with those who had slaughtered his people and imprisoned his rulers.

Susan smiled; perhaps a loss of temper would not serve them poorly. If the giants had cause to fear them they might be more likely to agree to their demands. "I trust you to act appropriately in my stead; I must go to seek news of my family." _Let them be there; let them be safe._ But she knew that if all three were safe outside the walls, one of them would have sent word and the group of Narnians would not still be camped so near the city.

"Take Phillip and that fool Linus with you, if you would be so kind your majesty; I can no longer endure either of them." Susan nearly smiled; she knew exactly what he meant. Edmund's messengers had been nearly unbearable from the start, though for very different reasons.

Linus, having quickly recovered from his exhaustion, had been an unmitigated nuisance. He had barked at every moving shadow upon the moors, and chased them as often as not, had quarreled endlessly with the troupe of Leopards and Tigers, and had taken it upon himself to follow Susan everywhere she went. Orieus had reminded her, looking rather amused, that Dogs did not frequently accompany the army to war because of actions such as those. Susan had been amused at first, but as the days wore on she often found herself gritting her teeth and trying to remain gracious when she woke to find the faithful, if overly energetic, Dog bounding into her tent to report on the scarcity of squirrels.

Phillip had been difficult in a very different way; he had sulked the entire time. He was terribly bad tempered, a circumstance that was not improved when he caught a slight cold, and would scarcely speak. Susan had done her best to convince him that he should remain in Cair Paravel to recover, but Phillip would have none of it. He seemed perfectly willing to defy anyone's orders as long as doing so allowed him to return to Edmund's side. Susan would not have thought less of him for this had he not recently taken recently to kicking anyone who dared approach him. No small number of minor injuries had resulted from this among the smaller Animals and even a few of the Dwarves and Orieus was at his wit's end.

"Queen Susan?" She blinked, returning from her thoughts and nodded.

"I doubt either of them would allow to leave them behind anyway." She looked up at the circle of light behind the leaden clouds that marked the sun's position; it was just past midday. "How long before you and the rest of your party can reach the gates?"

Orieus followed her gaze and frowned. "Not before dusk; I will gather a score of guards to accompany you. If you cannot safely return tonight then you must do so tomorrow before the sun has risen, else you risk detection."

Susan nodded and stubbornly blamed her shaking hands on the cold.

Night was fast approaching by the time Susan and her company reached the craggy foothills where the gryphons had reported signs of the other Narnians. By this time snow was falling in huge silent flakes, blanketing the ground and muffling the sound of the steps; even the clanking of their armour and weapons seemed quieter than it had before. Susan was grateful for the snow; it would hide their tracks and diminish the possibility that giants looking out from the battlements would see them, but it still made everything terribly cold and damp.

Linus trotted up to her side and, irrepressible though the wolfhound was, even he seemed more silent than usual. Phillip followed a few paces behind, silent and tense; ears laid back against his skull and eyes dangerously angry. Susan found herself rather afraid of what he might do if Edmund was not there when they reached the others or, and this was almost worse, what he would do if Edmund was there.

Linus stopped suddenly, the hair on his shoulders and back lifting slightly as he sniffed the air. Susan gritted her teeth, fully expecting him to begin barking at any moment in spite of Orieus' warnings and threats against doing so. A moment later he wagged his tail and grinned up at her, eyes shining.

"It's them, Queen Susan!" To his credit his voice was quieter than she had ever heard it, although that wasn't saying much. "I can smell them; it's the other Narnians!"

 _Narnians; he didn't say humans. That doesn't necessarily mean the worst,_ she reminded herself firmly. After all, weren't they all considered Narnians now? She didn't really have time to dwell on the question however, for almost immediately a mass of furry, quickly moving bodies rushed at them; it was the pack of Dogs that had gone with her family.

Susan found herself staring at them in a mixture of amazement and horror. They were nearly silent, far quieter than she had ever known Dogs of any kind to be when welcoming newcomers; that was enough to amaze anyone. What horrified her was the state they were in; all were terribly thin and bedraggled, but worse than that was the look in their eyes. They did not look like proud, free Narnians, in fact they barely looked like Talking Animals at all. Instead they looked frightened, hunted, and terribly close to becoming like the few ordinary dogs Susan had encountered since coming to Narnia.

Linus' tail drooped at the sight of them. "Greetings cousins," Susan called out, keeping her voice barely loud enough to be heard and trying her best to be cheerful.

For a moment, none of them responded. A sheepdog tilted her head to one side as if trying to understand and Susan felt a terrible sense of grief steal over her. Then the Dog bowed, ever so slightly, and slowly, as if the words were difficult, answered. "Greetings…fair queen. We have…hoped for your arrival…every moment."

"Where is Edmund?" demanded Phillip, quite forgetting himself in his impatience. The Dog growled faintly but otherwise ignored him, haunted eyes fixed on Susan's face as if in disbelief that she was real.

"Where are the others?" Susan asked quietly, holding back her own impatience to ask after her siblings more specifically; she must be a queen first and a sister second, at least in this moment.

The Dog dipped her head again and turned, followed by her silent pack, to lead them higher into the crags. Linus whined softly at Susan's side and she put a comforting hand on his head. "We will make it right; whatever has happened to them, we will make it right," she promised him softly. He nuzzled his nose against her hand gratefully and wagged his tail slightly. Susan wished she knew how she was going to keep that promise; whatever had happened in the weeks it took the army to cross Ettinsmoor had certainly taken its toll on the Dogs. She found herself feeling terribly afraid of what it might have done to the others.

After ten minutes of scrambling up steep slopes, made slippery by the snow, they came to a crack or crevasse in the rocks and were met by a sullenly burning fire and a circle of pale, worn faces.

"Susan!" Lucy threw herself at her sister before Susan had time to fully register that the ragged, wild looking girl by the fire was indeed Lucy. Her hair was braided very messily and looked terribly tangled, her face was pale and far thinner than when she had left Cair Paravel- _had it really been less than two months ago?-_ but her eyes were shining with joy.

"Lucy!" Susan returned her embrace fiercely before holding her at arm's length to examine the bruises on her face. "What happened?"

Lucy laughed and brushed her hair forward, hiding the worst of it. "I slipped and fell into a hole; I'm really alright though." Satisfied enough by her explanation to believe she wasn't going to collapse, Susan turned towards Edmund.

If she had thought Lucy's appearance was shocking, his was much, much worse. While Lucy merely appeared bedraggled and in need of a good meal, Edmund looked half dead; his eyes were haunted and looked too large for his thin, frighteningly pale face. He might have been a stranger, he had changed so much. When he hugged her, she could feel his ribs and suspected, quite correctly, that he had barely been eating.

"Hullo Su, I don't suppose you happened to bring any food with you?" Susan smiled, incredibly relieved to hear a trace of her brother's manner in this stranger's voice.

"Of course I did." She looked back towards the fire, though she knew by now Peter wasn't there. The satyr rose, bowing, and Susan recognised Trebonius, it took her a moment longer to realise that the old faun laying upon the ground and appearing to lack the strength to rise was Metelus. "Peter?" she asked shakily, terribly afraid of the response.

Edmund smiled, though the expression looked stiff and did not reach his eyes. "Safe; or he was yesterday when he signaled me. He chose to remain in the city." It was obvious there was far more to the tale than he was willing to reveal currently and Susan wisely did not question him.

Edmund shifted his gaze from Susan to something directly behind her and she turned to see Phillip, silent and bristling with rage. "Come on Lucy," she put an arm around her sister's shoulders and ushered her back towards the fire. "Let's get you a blanket and something to eat." She would really rather not be standing between Edmund and Phillip if the Horse lost his temper.

* * *

"Well?" Edmund asked, eyeing his friend cautiously. "I see you followed my orders."

Phillip said nothing, merely stared at him stoically as if he was trying, and not quite succeeding, to ignore his presence entirely.

"Phillip, I'm sorry. I couldn't leave Peter and you couldn't come with me; I had to make you leave." Still the Horse said nothing and Edmund found himself feeling thoroughly miserable. "Please say something?"

Phillip snorted and nudged Edmund's shoulder with his nose. "You're too thin." Then he was silent again.

Edmund sighed and shook his head; it was better than nothing. The Horse shoved him again; this time hard enough to make him stumble, and there was a dangerous gleam of anger in his eyes. "If you ever do anything that damnably foolish again I will knock you down and drag you away from danger, orders or no orders!" As if to prove his point he shoved Edmund hard enough to send him sprawling to the ground in a rather undignified way.

Edmund glared up at him as the Horse flicked his tail, seeming suddenly rather pleased with himself. "Are you satisfied now?" he asked, picking himself up off the ground and brushing the snow from his cloak.

"Nearly," said Phillip with a snort. "But I meant what I said; do not attempt ordering me from your side again. I am the one who taught you to ride and you would do well to remember that I am perfectly capable of throwing you into the next river we come to." But most of the anger had left his voice and Edmund smiled, the expression feeling unfamiliar.

He joined the others near the fire, Phillip following him closely as if to warn him against further foolishness, and was happy to see that Metelus was sitting up and looking much better than he had in days. The old faun had fallen ill a week before when the weather had at last become truly terrible. Lucy had begged him to allow her to give him a drop of her cordial but Metelus had merely shaken his head and insisted she save it for those who would need it more.

Edmund gratefully accept the bowl of stew Susan handed him and wrapped his cold hands around it. _Trust Susan to think of bringing enough food to feed a small army, though Aslan knows we need it._ Hunting had been easy the first week, but by the end of the second most animals with any sense had gone to ground in their burrows or dens, or descended to lower elevations to avoid increasingly frequent snowstorms.

Hunger had not been their worst enemy, however. The giants, enraged at his and Lucy's escape had hunted them mercilessly and several of the Dogs, who at first had been far more careless than they should have been, had fallen to them. Those that remained had learned swiftly to be silent when hunting and had eventually nearly ceased speaking or making noise altogether. Edmund would have been worried if he had the energy to spare, as it was he did not.

"Ed?" He looked up to see Susan watching him with her most motherly expression. He looked down again quickly feigning interest in the bowl of stew he held; he couldn't face her concern, not when he had left Peter behind. "What did you mean 'Peter chose to remain in the city'? Phillip told us he was enchanted, is he still?"

"No." He shifted his gaze from the stew to the small fire, focusing on the dancing flames and trying to block out everything else. "The enchantment was broken before I left him; when I say he chose to remain behind I mean he did so of his own free will. I should have made him come with me." The last was more to himself than anyone else, but Phillip nudged his shoulder roughly as if to say; "There! now you know how I felt."

"Did you bring the army with you?" Susan nodded, frowning. "Good, because we will need them."

"Edmund, don't you think we ought to tell her the whole story?" Lucy as miserable at the prospect as he felt, but there really was nothing for it. Edmund set aside his still full bowl of soup, suddenly not feeling particularly hungry, and began his tale.

 **Sorry for the time jump; the next chapter will go back and explain why Peter refused to leave Harfang and how he managed to get Edmund to leave without him. Some of you will probably guess...I would love to hear what you think happened. Don't forget to vote on my poll and leave a review to let me know what you thought of this chapter. :-)**

 **Cheers,**

 **A**


	14. Names Have Power

**Many thanks once again to all of you! In particular I have to thank my wonderful beta PaintingMusic14 for her insight and effort in making this chapter better than it previously was. Don't forget to vote on the poll, you can find it on my profile page :-)**

 _Before:_

Playing the part of a besotted fool was rather more difficult that Peter anticipated. With the enchantment broken and the Green Lady's intentions revealed as evil he found that her smiles seemed less genuine and the sweet, musical quality of her voice was sickening. By the time she had escorted him to the dining hall, smiling and talking softly all the while, Peter was thoroughly ashamed that he had ever thought her kind. He could see now the poison and bitterness that hid in her words and the sly deceit that coloured her smiles.

Knowing it had not been entirely his fault, that he had been enchanted, scarcely made him feel better. He had thought her beautiful and good from the first moment they met upon the moors, long before she would have had a chance to enchant him. He had disbelieved Edmund's suspicions even before her music had first called to him, and that was what he regretted most.

"It must have been very difficult for you, dear king, to kill your brother, traitor though he was." She put her arm through his as they walked together and she was far closer to him than was strictly necessary. It took all his self-control not to pull his arm free and confront her then and there. _This is why I'm not a diplomat._

"He was a traitor, my Lady," Peter tried to make his voice as devoid of emotion and foolish as he could. "He would have tried to harm you."

She smiled. "If only the other Narnian rulers were as wise and loyal as you are. We must speak of my plans for Narnia later."

He reluctantly took the seat next to her at the small table set aside for them in the main hall. The other tables were crowded with giants, some of whom appeared half drunk already, and the noise of their laughter and conversations was thankfully loud enough to prevent the Lady conversing with him further.

Peter watched the doors, trying not to make it too obvious. He nearly smiled with relief when he at last saw Edmund slip into the hall and silently take his place in the shadows near the wall. A moment later everyone rose to their feet and turned towards the opposite end of the hall as a fanfare sounded.

The Giant king's face showed no grief at the recent demise of his Queen; quite the opposite in fact. He smiled broadly as he greeted the Lords who sat with him upon the dais and spoke loudly and jovially to the room at large.

"Greetings, dear friends! We have gathered, as is tradition, to celebrate another autumn, despite the grief we all must feel." He laughed, and the other giants laughed as well, shaking the room and making Peter want to cover his ears. They seemed to think it was a great joke that their Queen was dead. "These Narnian fools have done us a great service; the Queen was a fool, ever suing for peace with our enemies, and we are well rid of her! Moreover, her death shall serve as cause for war betwixt our land and that of Narnia. We shall fall upon these fools, slaughter their people and throw down their fortresses."

The giants cheered and raised their tankards; the Green Lady shifted her chair closer to Peter's and put a hand on his arm. "There is no need for concern, dear king, his majesty has most graciously agreed that you shall retain your throne, if you will but agree to make me your Queen." Peter forced a smile.

"You are both too kind, most gracious Lady." He sincerely hoped she would not expect him to say anything else regarding the matter.

The King waited for the clamor to die down and when it at last did so, he took his seat at the head of the great table and beckoned to a nearby guard. The guard listened intently for a moment as the King spoke, then bowed and hurried away. The King motioned imperiously to the Lady at Peter's side, silently commanding her to approach. She stood gracefully and took Peter's arm again, making it clear that he was to accompany her and giving him little choice in the matter. By the time they reached the dais the guard had returned and was depositing a furious Lucy on the table before the King.

"You have killed our Queen and plotted with your traitorous brother to overthrow the High King; what have you to say for yourself?"

Lucy drew herself up to her full height, which rather failed to be intimidating considering she was standing on a table and the giant King was sitting down and still towered over her, and gave the King such a look of disdain that Peter felt infinitely blessed to not be the one it was directed at. "I am loyal to the High King my brother, as is King Edmund whom you have falsely called a traitor. The only treachery to be found here is within your own heart, for it was you who invited us here under false pretense and have now falsely accused and attacked us. Such an act of aggression will not go unpunished." The King laughed heartily, but Lucy did not back away and her expression did not waver. Peter was terribly proud of her in that moment.

"Well spoken, little queen," said the King, wiping his eyes. "You would call the vengeance of Aslan upon us no doubt, and yet," here he paused to look about the room dramatically, "I see no Lion charging in to save you. I do not see your traitorous brother come back from the dead to protect you, and your brother the High King will kill you himself if my Lady commands him."

Lucy looked towards him then and Peter saw the terror she was hiding from the giants; her face was ashen and her eyes red from crying. He clenched his fists wanting desperately to smile reassuringly at her but did not dare risk it, not with the Green Lady so nearby. Then, to his utter shock, she smiled, joy flashing across her face for the briefest moment; somehow she had seen through his deception and realised the enchantment was broken.

"Then command him to do so," Lucy said, directing a very sweet smile up at the King. It was such a contrast to her earlier look of disdain that the King looked rather startled. "I am quite willing to put my life in his hands."

"Go on," the Green Lady whispered near Peter's ear. "She is a traitor. She would kill you if given the chance; strike first and protect your kingdom."

Peter stepped forward, trying to look dazed and believably angered by Lucy's supposed crimes, while at the same time scanning the shadows beneath the table for any sign of Edmund. Suddenly, halfway down the table a giant sprang to his feet with a cry of pain. "Something stuck me in the foot!" He stamped the offending foot and swayed somewhat drunkenly.

The giant next to him seemed to take exception to the loudness of his voice and promptly hit him over the head with his heavy silver plate. In no less than twenty seconds the whole table had begun brawling. In the confusion of stamping feet and drunken shouting giants Peter dashed forward and grabbed Lucy's hand, pulling her to relative safety under the table. Edmund joined them, grinning.

"That went rather well." He wiped the bloody dagger he had used to stab the first giant in the foot on his cloak, looking incredibly pleased with himself. "It's quite lucky giants are quarrelsome by nature."

Lucy threw her arms around his neck. "I knew you couldn't really be dead!" Peter saw Edmund grit his teeth in pain, but he returned his sister's hug warmly nonetheless.

"We need to leave now; those drunkards might be willing to brawl all night but I doubt the King is willing to let them." Peter peered cautiously around the table leg and was greeted by the rather amusing sight of the Green Lady hiding under her own table to prevent being crushed by the giant's feet. "Which way Ed? Back to the stables?"

Edmund nodded, handing Lucy his dagger. "We left three horses there earlier, not the Talking ones obviously, but they'll do well enough to get us away from the city."

The entire hall had erupted into chaos by this point with clusters of giants at various stages of intoxication punching each other and throwing plates, food and furniture. The King was on his feet, shouting, but no one seemed to be paying attention. In the confusion, everyone seemed to have forgotten about Lucy and Peter, with the possible exception of the Green Lady but she did not dare leave the shelter of her table for fear of being crushed. They made it to the door with very little trouble, other than it occasionally being necessary to dodge a flying chair.

Everything was going beautifully, therefore it was inevitable that their luck would run out at some point. They had nearly made it back to the stables when everything went terribly wrong. Peter felt a sudden, terrible pain in his head and stumbled nearly falling as his vision went black for a moment. _Peter._ The Green Lady's voice was deafeningly loud inside his mind.

"Peter?" Lucy was staring at him in concern and Edmund had caught his arm to keep him from falling. "What is it?"

 _Peter dear, come back here at once; your Lady has need of your aid._ Her voice was sickeningly sweet and the pain in his head seemed to triple. He bit his lip to keep from screaming as his knees buckled.

"Peter! Whatever she's telling you to do you have to fight it. Focus on my voice." Edmund was kneeling beside him, his expression betraying his panic.

"I can't!" he ground out through gritted teeth. "Get out of here!"

 _Peter!_ Vaguely impatient and annoyed her voice sent a fresh wave of agony crashing through his skull.

"What is she saying?" Edmund demanded, shaking his shoulders harshly. "Tell me!"

"My…name. It hurts." He closed his eyes and pressed his hands against his temples, vainly trying to block out her voice.

"Names have power here, remember when she told us that?" Lucy's face was pale and horrified as she bent over him. "Do you think the cordial would help?"

"You have to leave!" _Peter._ He staggered to his feet, unable to resist the command in her voice. _Come here._ "Get out of here! Stay near the city and wait for Susan; I'll signal you if I can. Now GO!" Edmund shook his head, silently refusing and Peter turned desperately to Lucy. "Lu, please, both of you have to leave. Please!" The Lady's voice was growing louder, which probably meant nearer and Peter knew they had no time to argue. "Knock him out if you have to, just get out of here!"

Both of them stared at him for a long, terrible moment. Edmund shook his head defiantly, daring Peter to try arguing with his decision. Lucy looked uncertainly between her brothers, wavering on the brink between siding with Edmund or obeying Peter's orders. For a moment, her face grew strangely blank and she tilted her head as if listening, then she nodded sharply and struck Edmund across the back of the head with the hilt of her dagger. Peter barely had time to catch him as he collapsed, threatening to pull both of them down when the Green Lady's voice called his name again. He realised with a feeling of utter horror that this time it was not in his mind.

Together he and Lucy half dragged Edmund the last few yards to the stables and managed to maneuver him onto one of the already saddled horses. Peter hugged Lucy fiercely. "Don't let him come back for me without the army." He shuddered, the Green Lady's voice nearly drowning out all other thought; his head felt as it might split in two at any moment.

"Peter, Aslan spoke to me just now," said Lucy quickly. "He said you must not lose faith and that Edmund and I must leave you to find your own path." She sniffed, a tear slipping from the corner of one eye and turned away hurriedly. Peter watched her go as he sank to his knees; the Lady calling his name as she emerged from the castle, disheveled and furious. The little door closed behind Lucy and Edmund, and Peter breathed a sigh of relief before the witch grabbed his arm with a snarl of rage and the pain in his head overwhelmed all conscious thought.

* * *

 _Some Weeks Later:_

"You hit him?" Susan felt her jaw drop at the idea of Lucy knocking Edmund unconscious.

Lucy flushed and looked at the ground. "Aslan and Peter both told me to get him out of the castle."

"It was still a rotten thing to do," Edmund growled, glaring at her, the memory renewing his old anger at her actions. "I never would have left him there if I'd had a choice and this whole mess could have been avoided."

"Or the Green Lady could have killed Peter! You don't know what might have happened if he had come with us; we don't know what kind of dreadful spell she cast on him for her saying his name to effect him like that!" Lucy glared at Edmund just as fiercely as he glared at her and Susan thought it best to distract both of them before they could begin quarreling in earnest.

"You said earlier that Peter had signaled you like he said he would; that means he is alright and in his right mind, doesn't it?" It seemed rather impossible given what she had just heard but Susan had to hope.

Edmund threw one last glare at Lucy before turning back to her and shrugging. "He seems to be, but there's really no way to be sure. I don't doubt that he's safe, at least as safe as you can be in the presence of a witch, but whether or not he's in his right mind is debatable. Signaling in code is always a bit dodgy and there's no way to know if he's merely doing what she tells him to." He kicked at the ground miserably. "I never would have left him."

"I know." Susan understood why Lucy had acted as she did but she knew how terrible waking up to find that Peter had been left behind must have been for Edmund. "And since then? Have you had any trouble with the giants?"

"They've been hunting us," Lucy stated grimly. "They killed a few of the Dogs before we learned to hide from them better and they've effectively scared away any game left in the mountains."

Susan looked from Lucy's grim, pale face to Edmund's haunted, thin one and found herself wanting to cry. _If only they had stayed home; we would all be at home right now, around the fire, looking out at the first snowfall from warmth and safety._ But it was no good wishing; they had to face the reality.

"We'll have to stay here tonight," Edmund said suddenly, looking over at Metelus who had fallen asleep near the fire. "Tomorrow we can join the army and start planning how to take the city." In a moment, he had changed from a frightened, half-starved boy to a king and Susan pushed her own fears aside as Edmund had. They were rulers and leaders, not merely frightened siblings, and only by leading could they have a chance of getting Peter back.

 **I'm honestly not sure who I feel more sorry for; Peter, Edmund, or Lucy. They all seem equally miserable right now. Once again, thank you all for reading...Please leave me a review if you are able, I would love to hear what you thought!**

 **Cheers,**

 **A**


	15. Prelude to a Battle

**I'm not particularly happy with this chapter and it gave me a good bit of trouble to write, but here goes anyway. I still don't own Narnia.**

Waking in the terribly cold hours before dawn, Susan stared up at the cloudy sky for a long moment, wondering what had disturbed her sleep. She was certain there must have been some sound that had pulled her from the grasp of her dreams, but she could not recall what it was. She sat up after a moment and looked around. The fire had died down to faintly glowing coals-due more to a lack of sufficient dry fuel than a lack of tending-and the small ravine was terribly dark. She blinked, eyes slowly adjusting and focusing on two figures across the embers from her.

Lucy was keeping watch, a dagger in her hands and a hastily constructed bow she had obviously made herself laying across her knees. Edmund was asleep next to her, leaning against the rocky cliff face. Susan had nearly convinced herself that all was well, and perhaps she had merely been woken by the sound of a stone shifting, when Edmund cried out and turned his head restlessly. To Susan's surprise, Lucy did not try to wake him-though she did put a calming hand on his shoulder.

Susan stood stiffly, shuffling around the fire with the intention of shaking Edmund awake, but Lucy shook her head emphatically before she could. "Don't; I tried to once and he nearly crushed my throat before Trebonius dragged him away." She smiled sadly. "Luckily he didn't remember any of it the next morning."

Susan sat down on his other side, and brushed the sweat damp hair back from his face gently. _He desperately needs a haircut,_ she observed silently. He cried out again, face twisting into a grimace of pain. "What does he dream about?" Susan asked quietly.

Lucy was silent for a moment, staring across the dying fire to where Trebonius and Metelus slept while Susan's guards kept silent watch. "You know he hates it when people fuss over him; he wouldn't tell me when I asked him."

"But you found out anyway?" Assuming anything else would be absurd; Lucy was far too adept at discovering secrets, even Edmund's.

"He left out a good bit of his own story earlier." Lucy's grip on the dagger hilt tightened until her knuckles showed white even in the dim light. "The giant who took me away nearly killed him; he hit him in the chest and the force of the blow threw him against a wall."

Susan shuddered at the thought; she remembered how easily Giant Rumblebuffin had crushed his way through the White Witch's forces at Beruna. _And the Northern giants are supposed to be even larger and stronger than those we have in Narnia._ It was not a pleasant thought.

"The guards were slaughtered as soon as 'proof' of our crime was discovered and the giants took them out of the city to dispose of their bodies." Lucy's voice shook and Susan hated how little she could do to help her. "I don't know if they thought Edmund was dead or not, but they took him out with the rest. When Trebonius and Metelus found him, he was trapped under the corpses of our guards, half dead himself."

Nausea threatened to overwhelm her. _Dear Aslan!_ Looking at her younger brother's face now, she could understand the reason for such a change in him. And yet, somehow despite everything he had kept fighting; had rescued Lucy, refused to leave Peter, and survived for weeks in the frozen mountains. Susan highly doubted she could have done the same.

"I used the cordial to heal his injuries as soon as we were safely away from the city and I realised how badly he was hurt," Lucy was saying quietly. "But it can do nothing to erase memories or ease nightmares. He won't talk to me about them. I only hope he'll talk to Peter when we get him back."

 _If,_ thought Susan and instantly scolded herself. _Of course we will! We don't have a choice._

The Eastern sky began to brighten, almost imperceptibly, heralding the coming dawn. Edmund was quiet now; whatever nightmare had troubled him having passed at last. Lucy sighed and leaned her head against his shoulder, turning her face towards the East to watch the sunrise. Susan smiled, watching her worried, drawn expression change to one of peace as the sun rose.

"I'm glad you're here, Susan," she said quietly. Watching the sunrise with her, Susan nodded; gentle though she was, she too was glad. Glad that she had a chance to make those who harmed her siblings pay for what they had done.

* * *

He wasn't exactly a prisoner, but Peter sometimes felt he might as well have been. The Green Lady had initially been terribly suspicious when he awoke the morning after his ill-fated attempt at escape, claiming to remember nothing of the events, but she was far too conceited to question whether he could have broken her enchantment. Nevertheless, she watched him rather more closely after that, making it nearly impossible for him to keep his promise to Edmund.

It had been three days before he had managed to slip away and climb to the battlements, using a silver platter as an improvised mirror to reflect sunlight in a series of flashes. It was a system they had developed for communicating over short distances or when stealth was required; if anyone saw him they might think he was merely taking a walk and would not question him too closely. The main drawback was that if Edmund saw the signals, he would not be able to risk signaling back.

Peter felt rather like a drowning man shouting at a passing ship in the midst of a gale, but he faithfully climbed the battlements every chance he had. _Safe. Wait for reinforcements. Stay out._ He had early on chosen the wall that faced the mountains as his signal tower and could only hope he wasn't directing his orders in the wrong direction, and that Edmund would not choose to ignore them. Not that Edmund would have much choice regarding staying out of the city; the stable door had been sealed and blocked up with stones the very morning after Edmund and Lucy's escape.

The Lady herself had dropped all pretense of virtue; trusting her enchantment to prevent Peter from lashing out at her as she talked endlessly of the slaughter and havoc she would unleash upon Narnia. Peter found it increasingly difficult, as the days wore on, to smile foolishly in response when she spoke of murdering his people.

Peter's temperament, in contrast to Edmund's, was ill suited to deceit. Peter was the one more suited to leading sieges on cities and charges against armies; taking decisive action against Narnia's enemies. It was Edmund who excelled at working from the shadows, who threw himself so wholeheartedly into any role he was required to play that he often discovered in a week what it might take other spies a month to learn if, by some miracle they were not first found out themselves. The irony of his situation was not lost on Peter as he walked the dangerous line between discovery and madness.

By day he played the role of befuddled idiot and doting suitor; by night he bolted his door, not because it granted him any real safety, but because it created an illusion of control in a world gone mad. If the Lady noticed the stilted quality of his praise for her or the shudder he could not quite suppress when she took his arm, she did not seem to find it cause for concern.

It was a chance to find out as much as he could about her plans and her power itself, and for that alone Peter found himself feeling grateful. Through innocent sounding questions he discovered that, through some magic in the Northern air, speaking the name of a person or object with the proper incantations gave the Lady power to command their will and bend their actions to her own wishes. In that manner, she controlled the wills of her servants, preventing them from speaking and forcing their loyalty to her. It was by this method that she had kept him from escaping, and Peter was not foolish enough to believe she would hesitate to control him in the same manner again if she believed it was necessary.

As days wore into weeks and a month or more dragged slowly by, Peter began to realise that he barely cared now whether the Lady believed his deception or not. She needed him alive to lend legitimacy to her claim on Narnia, she had told him that much, and she could not harm Edmund and Lucy now that they were out of the city. He had nearly made up his mind to confront her, reveal her enchantment as broken and that the only power she now held of him was his name, if for no other reason than to save himself from the necessity of deceiving her longer.

The next day, as if in response to his increasing despair, he looked down from the battlements and saw a great army marching across the valley below. Rank upon rank of horsemen, Centaurs, fauns, satyrs, and all manner of other creatures, even a cluster of giants. Their banners and bright tunics stood out in stark contrast against the bleak landscape-a great golden Lion upon a blood red field-the Narnians had come for their king. Peter smiled grimly; at last this would be work better suited to him.

* * *

The King glowered down at the little horse-man who dared to treat with him. He supposed that this general, this Centaur, thought himself imposing with his armour and his weapons and his threats of destruction should the King not heed his terms, but for a giant even a centaur is not particularly awe inspiring.

Orieus himself was less impressed by the King than he expected to be; true, the giant was enormous, but his face appeared cruel and rather foolish despite all his claims of strength and intelligence. The Centaur knew at once that whatever cleverness there had been in the plot it was not a product of the King's own planning.

Orieus recognised the Green Lady immediately from Phillip's description, and studied her with more interest than he did the King. He saw at once that she was a witch; wondered how anyone could take her for anything else. She had the same look in her eyes that had always been in the White Witch's, and for all her smiles and courtesy she could not hope to hide that malicious gleam in her green eyes. Orieus gritted his teeth and stamped his hooves, wanting nothing more than to behead her with a single swing of his sword, but he restrained himself with difficulty and reluctantly observed the courtesies of diplomatic behaviour. Or rather, he bowed shortly and proceeded immediately to present his terms for the giants' surrender considering it courtesy enough that he had not yet killed them all for daring to threaten his sovereigns.

"Your highness," he addressed the King, though the words tasted bitter as he spoke them. "I have come by order of Queen Susan of Narnia to accept your surrender, should you agree to our terms. First, that the High King Peter be returned to us unharmed and immediately. Second, that for your insolence and audacity in attacking our royals you and your kingdom shall pay tribute to the royal court of Narnia of an amount to be later agreed upon. Third, that the witch known as the Green Lady be immediately released into our custody to await her execution at the High King's pleasure."

For a moment after Orieus finished speaking there was dead silence in the hall. Then the King laughed. No one else laughed or even seemed to breathe for it was terribly plain that the King, for all his laughter, was terribly angry.

"You presume to make demands of me, little horse-man? And in my own city, my own castle, no less!" He beckoned to the Lady who approached and stood at the right hand of this throne, though she barely reached the middle of his calf even standing. "This gracious Lady whom you have so lightly called a witch will speak with you now, I have not the patience to do so."

The Lady stepped forward with a truly charming smile that faded somewhat when Orieus did not react to it. "Dear general; can we not come to some more agreeable arrangement? Your High King is content, why should you not be as well?"

Orieus met her gaze impassively, expression like stone; he was familiar enough with the whiles of witches not to fall easily prey to them. "Perhaps if I could confirm the High King's wellbeing I would be more inclined to believe your reports of his contentment."

"Dear general," she tilted her head to one side and a slight hiss crept into her voice. "It seems to me that you are not in a position to make demands. You are at our mercy here, your soldiers cannot help you, and this fortress cannot be breached by the rabble clamouring at our gates; if we so wished it we could kill you now and throw your head back over the walls. How then would you lead your army? How then would you stand before and make demands for the life of your King?"

"If I die here it is the will of Aslan, but you will meet our demands or we will raze this castle to the ground."

The Lady laughed. "I rather like you, general. Very well, you shall not die, but rather, bear this message back to your Queen Susan. The Lady of the Green Kirtle and the King of the Giants salute the Queen of Narnia and command her to withdraw. No harm shall come to the High King but we shall not treat with nor surrender to invaders and tyrants. You have overthrown the rightful Queen of Narnia and murdered her in her own land; for these crimes and the crimes against the giants' King, Narnia must answer. Will you tell that for me, dear Centaur?"

"I will bear your message," conceded Orieus stiffly with a slight bow. "But know this, witch, I have faced your like before; though you may prevail for a time, those who are greater than you will cut you down and all your scheming shall come to naught." He turned and walked away, back perfectly straight and hooves almost silent even on the polished marble floor. Watching him go, the Lady shuddered, for she had often heard from her mother of the prophetic nature of Centaurs. She did not doubt that her doom would come upon her, but even in the face of realisation she smiled; before it did so her mother would be avenged and the High King would deliver his kingdom to her whether he willed it or not. _First your siblings, then your kingdom, and when I have taken all else from you then at last I will take your life._ Her smile broadened as she turned to seek him out.

 **I really despise the Green Lady...**

 **Anyway, a note on the length of this story; I have two more chapters already written, which will be posted in the next few days, after that there will probably be three maybe four more chapters to wrap things up. Thank you for sticking with me through the longest story I have ever written! I love reading your reviews and hearing what you think, so if you are able to please leave a review on this chapter.**

 **Cheers,**

 **A**

 **This chapter has now been looked over by my amazing beta PaintingMusic14, who has made it far more grammatically presentable than it previously was! Yay!**


	16. The Green Serpent

**The poll on my profile is still open for you to vote on what you would like to see written next. Currently there is a tie so if anyone is interested in breaking that tie it would be most appreciated :-) Anyway, polls and upcoming stories aside here is the next chapter. This one took three revisions and days of frustrated attempts to make it even slightly presentable, I'm really not sure why it was so difficult.**

Susan sighed and rubbed a hand across her forehead, trying to massage away the headache gathering at her temples. She glared across the makeshift council table to where Orieus and Edmund were arguing, seriously considered asking Linus to start barking- thereby forcing them to either shout to be heard or shut up.

"We can't break through the gates; even with the giants you brought they are too strong!" Edmund was glaring up at the general, arms crossed; Orieus glared back, far more intimidating.

"What you are suggesting is impractical and dangerous," Orieus replied, his voice calm but his expression and the twitching of his tail betraying his annoyance. "We do not have enough Gryphons- nor are the ones we have strong enough- to carry the bulk of our army over the walls."

Linus whined and Susan patted his head distractedly. "Why are they arguing?" he asked, looking up at her with puzzled eyes. "Flying sounds fun, we should just agree to fly."

"Hush," said Susan, though not unkindly.

Privately she agreed with the wolfhound, though for different reasons than thinking it would be fun to fly. Edmund's plan, which Orieus was taking such exception to, appeared sound enough to her. The gryphons, of which there were about thirty with the army, would fly a small force over the city walls and deposit them in the castle courtyard. The problem Orieus saw with the plan was mainly that only smaller, lighter Narnians would be able to enter the city in this way and that would leave the Centaurs, giants, and larger Creatures outside the walls, unable to help their comrades should anything go wrong. Despite the clear disadvantages of this, it seemed a better plan than battering against the gates-which would not break- until they ran out of supplies, the giants decided to drop rocks on their heads, or the snow grew deep enough to bury them.

"Do you suggest we give up then? We cannot afford to be caught in the open once winter begins in earnest; we must take the city swiftly or not at all. Would you council me to leave my brother the High King within those walls while we withdraw?" To someone who did not know him, Edmund's voice would have sounded calm and polite, but Susan knew his temper was at its most dangerous when he sounded calmest. Orieus seemed to realise this too, and he shifted his hooves, the annoyance in his expression fading slightly.

"I would give you no such council, your majesty. I would merely advise you not to take rash actions which can only lead to your death and the deaths of everyone who accompanies you." He stamped his hooves to emphasize the point, and Susan had to admit he might be right.

Edmund too seemed to see the sense in his argument, and hesitated for a moment, considering. "I respect your advice, and ordinarily I would follow it. With time we might be able to breach the city or find another, safer way in, but we don't have time. Peter has already been trapped in that city for weeks and I refuse to leave him there any longer than necessary. Tell the Gryphons to prepare."

"King Edmund-"

"That wasn't a request." Susan was shocked by the harshness of Edmund's tone and saw that Orieus, whose dark eyes flashed with anger, was similarly surprised . For a moment she thought he would argue; but instead, he bowed stiffly and trotted away, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like a curse.

Susan watched him go, before turning to Edmund with a glare fierce enough to make even Linus whimper and put his paws over his nose. Edmund however, seemed unaffected by her ire, and barely seemed to notice it as he began studying a map, frowning slightly. "You shouldn't be so harsh with Orieus," she said crossly. "He's trying to do his duty and protect you."

"I know." He didn't look up. "But what else do you expect me to do? No one else has a better plan." He sounded so exhausted that Susan couldn't stay cross with him, even if he had been terribly rude.

"It isn't your fault you know." He still refused to look up from the map, which Susan noticed wasn't even the right way up; avoidance was a classic tactic of his. "Edmund."

"Not now, Susan, please save the lecture for after this is over?" His voice had such a pleading tone that she could not bear to refuse outright.

"Only if I come with you." " _Battles are ugly affairs",_ she remembered Father Christmas telling her not so very long ago, but pushed the thought away impatiently. She pushed away too the memories of other battles she had accompanied her brothers to before she realised just how unsuited her temperament was for battle.

She half expected Edmund to argue with her and was surprised when he merely nodded wearily. "I was rather hoping you would actually; arrows might be our most effective way to kill these giants and you're the best shot with a bow in all Narnia."

Ordinarily Susan would have been pleased with the compliment, but this time Edmund was not encouraging her before a tournament or trying to reassure her on the rare occasions she doubted her ability to fight if the need arose. This would be a battle and it wasn't that Susan could not fight-she could-but that was often what frightened her. She had killed before in battle when she saw her loved ones threatened, her nature above all else was that of a mother, but her natural gentleness-ever at odds with the protectiveness she felt towards her siblings-made the memory of the lives she had taken more bitter still.

"Can I come?" Linus asked, shattering the seriousness of the moment by leaping to his feet, tail wagging enthusiastically. "Please, Queen Susan? Can I come? I'll be quiet as a mouse!" Susan sighed in exasperation and looked helplessly at Edmund.

To her surprise, he smiled fondly at the Dog and nodded. "Although, good cousin, I rather question the accuracy of the saying "quiet as a mouse". Anyone who has ever met a Narnian mouse knows they are far from quiet." Susan smiled at his tone, suddenly very grateful to the Dog for his inexplicable ability to lighten Edmund's dark mood at such a time.

Irrepressible as ever, Linus grinned up at Edmund, tail threatening to scatter the maps and papers from the table. "Then I'll be quieter than a mouse! Is flying really as fun as it looks? Have you flown before? What's it like?" He ran around in a circle, chasing his tail and asking questions all the while. Had it not been for the look of genuine amusement on Edmund's face, Susan would have lost patience with him altogether.

"Linus," Edmund said sternly, though Susan saw the laughter in his eyes. "Being quiet does not involve asking an absurd amount of questions." The wolfhound immediately dropped back on his haunches, tongue lolling out of his mouth as he tilted his head to one side.

"Sorry, your majesty." His tail thumped audibly against the hard-packed earth. "But is flying really as fun as it looks?"

Susan left Edmund to deal with the overly excitable Dog and went to find Lucy, for she at least, Susan had determined, would stay safely outside the walls whether she wanted to or not. Susan did not doubt that Lucy would argue, but she had made up her mind to stand firm on the matter; Lucy was far too young to be involved in what was sure to be a very unpleasant battle. _We all are,_ Susan thought grimly, but that thought she too forced from her mind.

* * *

The Gryphons landed in the stone courtyard with barely a whisper of sound as they folded their wings. A moment later, having deposited their passengers safely on the ground, they took off again, circling high above the battlements before turning to fly back towards the army.

The small group made their way across the strangely deserted courtyard, trying as best they could to muffle the clattering made by their armour. Even Linus padded along like a silent grey ghost at Susan's side and Edmund found that he was incredibly grateful for that. Dogs might often be overly excitable and noisy, but they were among the most loyal of creatures and he knew that Linus would protect Susan with his life if necessary.

Trebonius, who Orieus had reluctantly agreed to place in command of the twenty guards accompanying Edmund, motioned questioningly towards the stables and Edmund shook his head silently. It was unlikely they would find anyone there, and it would be a waste of precious time to check. They turned instead towards the main halls, finding to their amazement that the door was not only unbolted but standing open.

Linus paused at the threshold and sniffed the air, hackles rising. "What is it?" Edmund asked softly, motioning the others to stay back. Susan ignored him and joined them at the door, bow drawn in her hands.

"Human," Linus said, sniffing again. "And something that isn't quite." He growled softly, the hair along his neck and shoulders bristling.

Trebonius edged forward, axe in hand, and peered through the doorway. "I'll go first; it may be a trap."

Edmund wanted to argue, but the look on the satyr's face stopped him. Trebonius' duty was to protect them, and regardless of his successes, he still felt responsible for failing to do so when the giants first showed their hostility. That was something Edmund understood all too well himself, and so he nodded.

The satyr stepped through the doorway, paused to look around and took a few cautious steps forward. Nothing happened. He took a few more, still looking about as if he expected a trap to spring at any moment, but still nothing happened. After another moment the others followed him, equally as cautiously and equally without mishap. The whole palace seemed deserted and everyone seemed to feel the terrible sense of unease that created.

Suddenly Linus yelped in surprise and Edmund looked down just in time to see a brightly coloured snake slither between the Dog's paws, hardly seeming to take notice of him. The creature lifted its head for the briefest moment as it slid past the toes of Edmund's boots and hissed, emerald eyes strangely bright, before it continued on, the green of its body standing out brightly against the dull flagstones.

Linus tilted his head to one side, and whined softly in confusion. "I can't smell snake."

They crept forward-far more cautiously now- until they reached the dining hall only to find that it too seemed empty. Linus growled again, barely audible, and Edmund shot him a warning glance before he saw what the Dog had already sensed.

The room was dimly lit by torches on the walls, which threw long, dark shadows across the floor. Edmund recognised the shadows cast by his troupe of Narnians, but across the room, between them and the other door, lay another cluster of shadows that could not have been cast either by the guards or the furnishings of the room.

Motioning for the rest of the guards to stay back, Edmund beckoned to Susan and Trebonius and together the three of them, followed closely by Linus, edged forward around the wall. The shadows remained perfectly still, and for a moment Edmund wondered if he was mistaken and they were merely thrown by the stools or one of the tables. Then, as they stepped past the last table and were nearly to the door, one of the shadows shifted and Edmund turned to the right, towards the movement and came face to face with a terrified group of the Green Lady's servants.

Linus growled and crouched, ready to pounce and likewise Trebonius lifted his axe, but Susan, rather than knocking an arrow and raising her bow, lowered the weapon and shook her head. "I don't believe they mean us any harm," she said quietly.

Edmund was rather inclined to agree with her; the servants didn't look dangerous, only terrified as they crouched half hidden beneath the table. Still, having seen the Green Lady's skill at enchanting others to carry out her will, Edmund knew caution was wise. Not taking his eyes off the group of servants, he edged backwards towards the door, one hand on Susan's arm to guide her. He stopped a moment later when the expressions of terror on their faces grew more pronounced. One girl, the one who had shown him where the stables were so many weeks ago, opened her mouth in a silent scream as she stared, horrorstruck at something directly behind and above his left shoulder.

Susan realised the danger at the same moment he did, and threw herself forward onto the stone floor just as the serpent-now terribly large- thrust its head forward through the doorway like a lance and snapped its huge jaws together in the space so recently vacated by Susan's head. Edmund dragged her back, under the table, and turned to see what had become of the others.

The guards he had left at the other side of the room were standing frozen, staring at the serpent with blank expressions. Trebonius, axe half raised as if to strike, was stumbling back looking dazed as the serpent stared down at him, eyes no longer green but seeming now to dance with flickering flames. Linus alone seemed unaffected, and he was running back and forth in front of the snake, darting forward to snap at the heavy coils of its body and barking frantically. For all his enthusiasm, the snake seemed to take no notice of him and kept her eyes-for Edmund was now certain the serpent and the Green Lady were one and the same-fixed upon Trebonius. He lowered his axe and shook his furry head-as if trying to clear it- before he turned dazedly towards Edmund and Susan.

"Captain?" Edmund stood cautiously and took a step forward.

The satyr blinked, then smiled, raised his axe, and charged. Susan screamed, but Edmund barely heard her as he brought his sword up to block Trebonius' blow, fumbling to shift his shield from his back to his arm at the same time. His sword arm ached with the force of the blow, and he stumbled back cursing, but did not strike back in return.

"I won't fight you!" Steel shrieked against steel as Edmund blocked another blow of the satyr's axe, this time managing to catch the strike on his shield. He stumbled back again, one more step and his back would be against the table;he could retreat no further.

"Then you will die," Trebonius said calmly, teeth bared in a feral grin. He raised the axe again and Edmund knew that if he chose to fight him he could win, but if he refused he would not be able to deflect another blow. His shield was already dented, his arms half numb, and he had nowhere left to retreat. _I can't fight him; it isn't his fault!_ Out of the corner of his eye he saw the serpent still looming in the doorway, waiting to strike until she saw the outcome of her latest enchantment. _If I could only get to her, after all, she's the one responsible for this!_

But he had no time to formulate a plan or to attempt an attack on her directly. Despite the lack of fault on his part, Trebonius stood firmly between them and the look in his eyes could only be described as murderous. The satyr raised his axe above his head, preparing to strike one last blow against his king, but it never fell. His eyes widened in surprise as he stumbled back, lost his grip on his axe and sank to his knees, a red fletched arrow protruding from his right shoulder.

Susan lowered her bow, face ashen and hands suddenly shaking,while the serpent, with a sudden hiss of fury, struck.

 **Hopefully that wasn't too bad; I felt rather uninspired writing this until the very end. Thank you for the lovely reviews! That's pretty much all I have to say...Review if you have a spare moment; pretty please?**

 **This has now been looked over by my awesome beta reader, who was forced to add an innumerable amount of commas by my lack of grammatical proofreading. Thank goodness she's patient enough to put up with me! :-) Also, the title of the next chapter is "A Battle of Wills", so expect the action to pick up significantly there! And all this after I said I had no more to say; classic!**

 **Cheers,**

 **A**


	17. A Battle of Wills

**Here we have a surprisingly long chapter which will hopefully answer some questions and raise others. Speaking of questions the poll on my profile is still open and, amusingly, still tied despite additional votes. If someone wants to break that tie that would be fantastic :-) Thanks for reading and reviewing :-)**

"Get down!" shouted Edmund, pushing Susan down and back under the table for the second time that day. The serpent's scaly face smashed into the solid wood, splintering a good deal of it and making the table legs creak dubiously. Linus whimpered as the serpent's tail struck him at the same moment, and he was tossed back against the opposite wall to lie still.

In a flash, Edmund looked from the still Dog to the crumpled body of his captain and then to the pale, tear stained face of his sister. Such a feeling of cold rage swept over him then, that afterwards he always wondered if he had quite been aware of what he was doing. In a moment, he had freed his left arm of his damaged shield and drawn the long knife sheathed in his boot. Ignoring Susan's desperate protest, he abandoned the dubious safety beneath the table, and stood to face the serpent.

The Lady herself, for Edmund had been correct in his earlier assumption that the Lady and the serpent were the same, could scarcely have been more shocked by his actions than Edmund was himself. She paused for a moment, head drawn back to strike again, and hissed in what might either have been surprise or laughter. Edmund scarcely cared which it was; he had reached the end of his patience, and did not wait for her to attack before he slashed upward with his sword.

She towered so far above him, that the blow fell far short of her neck and did little damage as the steel shrieked against her scales and glanced off the armour-like plates. Edmund struck again, never afterwards knowing why she hadn't driven her head down and snapped her jaws together on him immediately, but infinitely grateful that she had yet to attack in return. The second attack proved as fruitless as the first, with the added disadvantage that this time his sword-already weakened by blocking Trebonius' earlier blow-snapped cleanly in half when it struck her scales. Edmund narrowly escaped being impaled by the point as it glanced off the serpent's body.

A red fletched arrow whizzed past his ear, and it too shattered against the serpent's scales. Edmund, rather too angry by this point to be particularly wise, did not do the most sensible thing and retreat back beneath the table. Rather, he shifted the long knife to his right hand and threw it with all his might at the serpent's face-which loomed several feet above him-though she still made no move to strike. The knife, more by luck than any real skill of aim and planning, struck the creature directly beneath the left eye, where a gap in the scales allowed the steel to sink several inches into its head. The serpent hissed in agony, thrashing her head back and forth as if trying to dislodge the blade, before fixing her burning eyes upon Edmund.

He realised then just how much of a fool he had been to throw away his only remaining weapon. Until that moment she had been amused, toying with him as he lashed out, incapable of causing her any serious injury; now she was injured, not severely enough to weaken her, but enough to replace her amusement with pained rage. Staring up into her lidless eyes, he could not doubt that she was going to kill him. The cold fury that had washed over him at the sight of his motionless friends suddenly left him, as he realised far too late that this had been precisely what the witch had intended all along. There was no time now to flee, even if he could have moved, but the serpent's gaze had caught him as effectively as a trap, and his feet seemed rooted to the floor.

The moment before she struck seemed to last forever; he heard Susan call out indistinctly, saw a flash of red and silver from the corner of his eye, and heard at last a well-remembered shout as Peter-suddenly and inexplicably-seemed to materialise by his side. Rhindon swept up in a gleaming arc, even as the serpent's head flashed downward in a blur of green. A moment later, there was a slightly strangled hiss and Edmund found himself knocked flat as the creature flailed in agony and slithered away, leaving behind a trail of dark blood in her wake.

Glowering darkly after her, Peter pulled Edmund to his feet. Edmund found himself glaring just as fiercely but at his brother and not the serpent's retreating tail. He was not sure whether he wanted to punch Peter or hug him, but instead settled for stepping away to help Susan to her feet.

"Well?" he asked a moment later, still glaring at his brother.

"Well?" Peter echoed, sheathing his sword and staring down at the floor in an uncharacteristically ashamed manner. Susan, obviously not caring whether her brothers were about to start fighting or not, threw her arms around Peter's neck and buried her face in his shoulder.

Edmund shook his head, and went to check on Trebonius and Linus. The rest of the guards, he was pleased to see were shaking their heads, appearing dazed but quite unlikely to be attacking their rulers anytime soon. Trebonius was stumbling painfully to his feet, one hand pressed against his shoulder and the other holding Susan's bloodstained arrow, which he had pulled from the wound. Satisfied that he wasn't about to bleed to death, Edmund turned his attention towards Linus.

The grey wolfhound whimpered pitifully as he tried to stand, and his right front paw would not take his weight, but he looked up at Edmund happily enough, tail wagging slightly. "Did I hurt her?" he asked enthusiastically, hopping forward on three paws.

Edmund smiled, relieved that he seemed otherwise unhurt. "I fear she did rather more damage to you, good cousin." He patted him on the head as his tail drooped in disappointment. "Perhaps you'll have better luck next time." Linus seemed to cheer at this, and loped clumsily towards Susan.

"Edmund?" Peter was frowning, looking torn between guilt and annoyance, and Edmund found he really wasn't in the mood to deal with either just then. He pushed impatiently past his brother towards the door.

"Not now." He really didn't mean to sound quite so cross, but he was exhausted. "In case you haven't noticed, there is still a witch hiding here somewhere, we're inside a hostile castle in a hostile city, and if we don't find some way out of this mess we are all going to die. Not to mention that there is an entire army outside who will likely be killed as well." He chose to ignore the shocked expressions of his siblings as he collected his broken sword and, ignoring the still horrified servants, stepped through the door.

* * *

Peter stared blankly after his brother for a long moment before Susan put a hand on his arm, reminding him silently that Edmund was right. He wasn't entirely sure what he had expected from Edmund, and anger did seem an appropriate response, but from Edmund it was a rather unusual one. _Unusual when I don't insult and distrust him, nearly kill him, and then force him to leave against his will._ But somehow Peter doubted it was actually that simple.

"How is he?" he asked Susan quietly as they followed Edmund through the dimly lit corridor, their way guided by the trail of blood on the floor.

Susan shrugged, eyes clouded with worry. "I only got here yesterday; Lucy's the one you really need to ask, but I fear he is rather less well than he would have any of us believe."

"And Lucy?" He remembered with a shudder how terrified she had been when accused of murder.

"She's with the army (rather cross at being left behind) but well enough." Susan smiled, obviously remembering just how cross Lucy had been.

It suddenly occurred to Peter to wonder how exactly such a large group of Narnians had managed to enter the castle. He was just about to ask Susan, when Edmund stopped abruptly in the doorway that led from the Green Lady's rooms into the castle proper.

"Linus, the blood ends here, what can you smell?" The Dog in question hopped awkwardly to Edmund's side, sniffing the air rather loudly as the hair along his back rippled and stood on end.

"She smells strange," he complained, and Peter felt the old annoyance with the rather ridiculous behaviour of Dogs return. "Like human and not human. She went this way," he pointed with his nose down the long corridor, constructed for giants and not for humans, and Peter really wished he hadn't.

"Where is everyone?" Susan asked, letting go of Peter's arm to draw her bow.

Edmund glanced back with a grim smile. "Probably waiting to stomp on our heads around the next corner. Let's go." There really wasn't anything they could say in response to that, so they wisely chose to stay silent as they followed him out into the cavernous hallway.

Peter had very nearly worked up the courage to step forward and at least try talking to Edmund, when a flash of green up ahead caught his eye. Edmund had obviously seen it too, for he stopped again and motioned the guards back urgently.

"She'll only enchant them to attack us and we can't afford to waste time fighting each other," he said crossly, noticing Peter's surprise.

"Maybe I should go first?" He surprised himself by asking, rather than stating that he would go first. Edmund was clearly in charge of whatever mission Peter had stumbled upon, but regardless Peter wasn't willingly going to let him face a witch with only a broken sword.

His brother scowled, not looking entirely trusting or pleased with Peter's suggestion, but after a moment he nodded. "Maybe you should," he conceded quietly, but remained barely half a step behind Peter as they moved forward into the corridor.

A huge doorway opened to their right and looking through it, Peter saw another flash of green as the Lady turned at last to face them. The bright jade of her dress was stained with dark blood and more blood dripped from a deep cut beneath her left eye, but she had never looked more beautiful nor more murderous, and Peter felt his determination falter. Surely, she couldn't be as evil as he had previously thought.

"Peter dear!" There was the faintest hint of a hiss in her voice still, despite her attempt at sweetness, and a flash of pain tore through his head when she said his name. Peter gritted his teeth against it and took a single, unwilling step towards her. "That's it, dear." She smiled terribly, the blood on her face making the expression disconcerting to say the least. "Whatever they have said to turn you against me, you mustn't let them succeed in doing so. They're traitors, Peter."

 _Traitors. Edmund, Susan, Lucy; traitors._ He shook his head desperately, caught between the poisoned enchantment of her words and the strength of his own will-but knowing she was stronger. Images flashed behind his eyes. _Edmund and Lucy killing the giants' Queen, Susan laughing as she led Narnia's army to the gates of the city, not to save him but to kill him; Edmund standing over him with a cold smile as he raised an already bloody dagger to strike a final blow._ And beneath it all-the chaos and the blood of the terrible lies she wove-was the music, haunting and pleading, compelling him to believe her words.

"Take my hand Peter." The pain in his head overwhelmed him and he was only vaguely aware of Edmund and Susan calling his name as he stepped forward, stretching out his hand to the Lady. Her smile was poison, her words daggers, but the power she held over his name would not be denied. One more step and Peter knew he would be lost forever, an unwilling slave to her will.

In a flash, Edmund had stepped between them, defiant and quietly furious as he pushed Peter back. "Names have power here, do they not Lady?" he asked, his voice sounding strange to Peter as he wavered still on the edge of losing himself to the Lady's magic. _Traitor! He's trying to stop me from going to her!_ He shook his head, desperately fighting the thoughts that were not his own, yet clouded his mind all the same.

The Lady inclined her head with a faint smile. It was clear from her face that she knew she had won and had no objections to indulging Edmund's questions before she killed them all. "But if you think to best me by speaking my name, I fear I must disappoint you." Her smile widened predatorily. "I have no name."

Peter could not see Edmund's expression as he faced the enchantress, but he did not need to; it was clear to anyone who knew him that Edmund was furious. _How dare he treat her thus!_ His grip tightened on his sword hilt; one quick step forward, one quick blow; Edmund would crumple to the floor, unable to stand between them again. _No! Not now, not ever._ Horrified that he could even have thought of taking such action, he dropped Rhindon with a sudden feeling of disgust.

 _I'm losing,_ he realised dully. Before that moment, he had scarcely considered that it was possible to lose a battle not fought with weapons, but with wills. She was strong, frighteningly so, and Peter knew that, regardless of how Edmund stood between them, he was fighting her alone.

Lucy would have smiled and slipped her hand into his, insisting in her absolute faith that they were never alone. _Never alone._ If names truly had power, then surely there was one Name more powerful than any other. _Aslan!_ He did not call the Lion's name aloud, he found he could not, but he knew in a blinding flash of faith that he did not need to. He felt the enchantress's power over him recede somewhat and blinked, his mind clearing of the jumbled thoughts.

"Maybe not, but there is a name you fear." Peter barely realised that Edmund was speaking again, slowly and quietly. The Lady hissed, looking more like a serpent than a lady, and in a single instant the room seemed to explode. Edmund's quiet voice and the name he spoke was lost in the Green Lady's roar of sudden fury as she threw herself at him, hissing as her body changed. A terrible explosion of power burst outward from her and Peter found himself thrown to the floor as Edmund too lost his balance. She rose above them, a towering green serpent once more, and Peter felt her control over him shatter completely as her fury drove all else from her mind.

Peter heard Susan scream and had only a moment to realise that the serpent was diving back towards the floor, mouth open in a hiss of fury; poison dripping from her fangs. He darted forward, pausing only long enough to feel his hand close around Rhindon's hilt again, and stabbed upwards desperately. The sword met the serpent's flesh, and there was a terrible, furious and pained hiss as her body swayed, crumpling to the floor. Peter didn't have time to consciously realise that she was falling directly forward and would likely crush him, before he found himself knocked back to the floor. The serpent's body was strangely light, and a moment later he pushed it away, stumbling to his feet in confusion.

"It's a snake skin," he said, feeling rather stupid as he stared at what should have been the serpent's corpse, but seemed to only be a dried and scaly husk.

Edmund kicked at the coil of skin with the toe of his boot, disgust showing plainly in his expression, and Susan looked as though she might be sick. "It's just a skin; I don't think you killed her," Edmund said grimly, stubbornly refusing to speak to Peter directly and instead addressing the empty space over his left shoulder.

Peter really couldn't blame him. He had tried, and failed to resist her magic, and now had apparently failed in killing her as well. He hung his head in shame. _I've made a mess of everything from start to finish._ Now that the immediate danger was past he had nothing to distract him from the terrible feeling of guilt that settled on him like a shroud. There had been no energy to spare on guilt in the weeks he had spent in tricking the Green Lady, and now that she was gone, the full scope of all he was responsible for doing because of her threatened to overwhelm him.

The three of them stood in silence for a long moment, before Edmund shook his head and turned away. "It's no use moping over it. If nothing else, she's hurt badly enough to flee. We need to find some way of getting the gates open so the army can deal with the giants." Peter nodded miserably, still staring at the green coils of snakeskin. Edmund was right, he didn't have time for guilt now either.

"What do you suggest?" Susan asked quietly, still sounding rather shaken. The smile Edmund gave her in answer seemed far from reassuring, and Peter found himself wondering what had happened to make Edmund's eyes seem so cold and harsh. Whatever it was, Peter knew it was likely his fault.

"We set fire to everything that will burn." Edmund's voice sounded quite unlike his usual tone even when angry, and Peter glanced at Susan in concern. She only shrugged, silently reminding him that she knew little more of what had happened than he did himself. "Use the flames to drive them out of the city and let the army deal with those who try to fight," Edmund continued quietly. Peter hated the very thought of the damage to homes such a plan would cause. _But are any in this evil city truly innocent? Are not all who stand by and watch their rulers murder and lie complicit in the results of such actions?_ _Is it really justice to punish those not directly responsible?_

But Edmund, _King_ Edmund at least, had always been just even in anger, and Peter did not have the heart to question him. _I don't have the right to,_ he realised, remembering how unjust his own actions had been since leaving Cair Paravel.

Susan didn't seem particularly inclined to object either, though she frowned in confusion. "Ed, stone won't burn."

Again, Edmund smiled that strange, almost ghoulish smile. "No," he agreed quietly. "But everything else, roofs, furnishings, and wooden supports will. Once they open the gates those who wish to flee will be allowed to; those who try to fight the army can deal with." Peter, who could think of no other more appropriate response, nodded.

 **Anyone think Edmund is going a little far by burning down a whole city? Well, technically not a whole city since Susan is right and stone doesn't burn, but still...Let me know what you think by leaving a review! (Also, I promise there is an explanation for how he is acting.)**

 **Many thanks to my fabulous beta reader who was once again forced to add innumerable commas to this mess :-)**

 **Cheers,**

 **A**


	18. The Battle is Joined-Part I

**Thank you for reading and reviewing! Here's the next chapter, obviously. Anyway, this one gave me a good bit of trouble; I knew exactly what needed to happen and maybe that's why it was nearly impossible to write. I then had a rather long argument with Edmund who was rather offended by the fact I suggested he burn down a city...yeah...I know I was arguing with a literary character.**

The main courtyard was a confused mass of shouting giants, terrified livestock, and swirling smoke by the time the small group of Narnians emerged, coughing from a side door of the castle. Edmund found that, true to his prediction, everything except the stone walls was burning, and doing so beautifully. The giants were panicking as they fled their burning stronghold, and even the King looked shaken as he emerged from the main doors, coughing and covered in soot.

"Open the castle gates; take refuge in the city!" The King's shout rang out above all the clamour, and for a moment the panicked giants stilled, turning towards the source of the order. Beside him Edmund felt, rather than saw, Susan tense and slip an arrow onto the string of her bow. He put a hand on her arm quickly, silently warning her not to take rash action which would prevent the further success of their plan. He understood why she wanted to kill the King, and knew she was more than capable of fatally shooting him-even from such a distance with smoke swirling in the air-but the death of the King would give away their location.

He pulled her quickly forward, towards the cluster of giants and more importantly the gates. In the confusion the small group of Narnians, so far below the giants' field of vision, would hopefully go unnoticed. To his right, Peter opened his mouth as if to speak, then shook his head and closed it again. Rather annoyed by his silence, Edmund scowled and chose to ignore him.

They had nearly reached the huge gates, which were slowly creaking open, when a giant stumbled across their path. He did not seem to see them, but his footsteps were deafeningly loud as he managed to nearly trample them in his haste to reach the gates. Edmund froze, suddenly shaking, terrified as he stared after the giant.

He choked, the smoke-filled air suddenly seeing too thick to breathe, his chest constricting from the terrible weight forcing the air from his lungs- _No! Not now, not here!_ But the sudden terror he felt was not inclined to be reasonable and did not care that its presence was unwelcome. The noise of the giants' voices and footsteps grew until they drowned out all other sound and he was trapped, crushed-

"Edmund!" Someone shook him roughly and he lashed out blindly, hearing a muffled grunt as his fist connected with something solid, before arms like iron wrapped around him, forcing him to be still. In a moment everything grew indistinct and blurred, until all he saw was darkness and the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth.

* * *

The darkness faded to gold and then became tinged with red, as he opened his eyes upon a strange sight. He stood upon a rocky cliff, looking down over a grim land. A city lay below him, flames rising from the thatched roofs of homes and screams filling the air until the mountains themselves seemed to shake with the echoes. As he watched, the scene began to shift, the fires died down to a scattering of smoking, ashy patches, and the few people left within the blackened walls crept back into the open, raising cries of grief as they searched the ruins of their homes. Bodies lay in the streets-charred by fire or trampled by others in their haste to escape the flames-children and elders; those too young or too weak to reach safety in the chaos and panic.

Edmund shuddered at the sight of the destruction and turned away to find that Aslan stood beside him, towering over him as He too gazed down upon the city with terrible sorrow in His golden eyes. "Child, what have you done?"

"I don't understand." Edmund blinked and stared up at the Lion in confusion.

"Look again."

And when Edmund looked again, he saw with a terrible feeling of dread that the city below them was Harfang. It lay in ruins because of his actions. It had been at his orders that homes and lives had been destroyed; all had been made to suffer in retribution for the acts of a few.

"No!" He turned his back on the terrible sight and sank to his knees at the cliff's edge, burying his face in his hands. He could not bear to see the proof of what he had done, but knew with a terrible certainty that he would never be able to forget it. Aslan stepped forward and Edmund found suddenly that he was kneeling between the Lion's paws, looking up into His face. The Lion looked down at him with such sorrow in His eyes, that he would gladly have faced His wrath rather than that sadness.

"My dear son, it was not for this that you were saved, nor for this that I have called you Just. Brutish they may be, and cruel, but they are My children still, as are all creatures of this land. Why have you done this?" In His voice, as in His eyes, there was no anger and Edmund found he could not bear it. He bowed his head once more and said nothing. "Have these, whose homes you destroyed, whose lives you claim in vengeance, wronged you?"

"No, Aslan." He could not bear to look up again, to see the sorrow he had caused.

"Then why have you turned your wrath upon them?"

"We needed to reach the gates; there was no other way." Aslan growled softly and he knew that this was not the whole truth. The Lion's eyes seemed to burn into his very soul, revealing the anger and fear that had haunted him for weeks. His eyes stung with unshed tears as he realised at last the full terror of what he had done and why. "I could have made a better plan, found another way, but I was so terribly angry. They killed innocent Narnians, threatened my family, and I hated them for it. I was angry and afraid; I see now it was wrong, and I'm sorry, so terribly sorry." He stared at the grass beneath the Lion's paws. "I would do anything to take it back, to undo what I have done." The tears fell, blurring his eyesight until the world seemed to dissolve in a swirl of green and gold.

"It is well said." Then Aslan roared, loud and terrible, and Edmund found himself falling endlessly into the chasm behind him. For a long, terrifying moment he fell, expecting with every heartbeat to strike the rocks below and knowing that he deserved nothing less for the wrong that he had done. But in the end, it was not jagged rocks he felt beneath him, but soft, golden fur, as he heard Aslan's voice again. _You have allowed hatred to make you bitter against those who have done you no wrong, and yet I will not let you fall into that abyss. Do not do now as you would have done; show mercy even as mercy was shown unto you._ Then with a final roar, the Lion was gone.

* * *

"Come on you idiot; breathe!" Peter was leaning over him, and the clamour from the giants seemed somehow muted. He blinked, confused by the relative silence, and realised they were no longer in the courtyard but in a deserted street. _Odd, I don't remember leaving the castle._ "Edmund!" Peter shook his shoulder none too gently, glaring down at him but still managing to look concerned rather than angry. "Breathe. Now."

Until that moment Edmund hadn't realised he wasn't breathing, and immediately upon realising it he choked, gagging as air flooded painfully back into his lungs. Peter huffed out a relieved sigh and released his shoulder; Edmund really wished he hadn't. His head was throbbing painfully, his chest ached, and all he really wanted to do was bury his head in Peter's shoulder and cry. On second thought, it was probably better that Peter had let him go or he might have done just that.

He stumbled unsteadily to his feet, feeling rather foolish, and saw to his relief that the guards at least weren't hovering in the background. He could vaguely see a group of them in the distance, carrying torches towards the nearest building.

 _This isn't right._ The thought surprised him. He had been so certain when he gave the order, so convinced it was the only way, but now- _"It was not for this that I have called you Just."_

"Stop!" He shouted the order desperately towards the guards, not caring if the giants heard him, not considering that he might be destroying their only chance of escape, instead remembering the terrible sadness in the Lion's eyes and cries of grief rising from a burned and blackened ruin. _This isn't justice; not the kind of justice I wish my name to stand for._ The guards stopped and looked back in confusion, clearly surprised by the sudden change in Edmund's orders, but they obediently trotted back.

Edmund breathed a sigh of relief and sagged back against the wall. "Edmund?" Peter put a cautious hand on his shoulder. "Care to explain?"

"If we do this we're no better than they are." _I thought I had already learned the difference between justice and revenge._ "We have to find another way to open the gates."

Peter smiled, relief pushing away the shadow of guilt hiding in his eyes. "I rather hoped we might need to. Burning the castle of an attacking nation seems fair enough, but burning an entire city is rather harsh, especially for you. Still," here he paused, shrugging and scuffing the ground with the toe of his boot, "I'm more likely to trust your judgement right now than I am to trust my own."

Before Edmund could answer and tell him not to be a fool, a bellow of fury rose through the air again. "Seize them! Death to the Narnians!" The King and his courtiers, accompanied by a pair of armed guards, thundered towards them shaking the street with their footsteps.

Naturally, they did the only sensible thing one can do when faced with a party of infuriated giants. They ran.

* * *

It turned out they could not actually run very far. The city gates loomed before them, towering against the darkening sky, and were very solidly closed. Peter cursed as they were forced to stop, and suddenly remembered that he had sent Susan towards the gates. He couldn't risk calling her name and could only hope she had the good sense to stay hidden. At his side Edmund, looking terribly pale, accepted a spare sword from one of the guards in place of his broken one. There was no trace of his earlier panic in his expression now, but Peter knew him well enough to recognise that it was still there.

"Alright, Ed?" It was a pathetically insufficient question, but there was no time. The giants shouted as they ran, weapons and armour clashing in rhythm with their deafening footfalls. In a moment more, they would round the corner and Peter could not doubt what the outcome would be. A score of Narnians, lightly armoured for stealth rather than mortal combat, could not long hope to stand against the King's guards and the others who would doubtless join them.

Edmund scowled, not looking away from the dimly lit street the giants would come down, and nodded.

"I'm sorry." Peter knew those words too were far from sufficient to express the depth of his remorse. The burning castle in the background, the lives of the Narnians at his side, and his brother, determined to the last; _all this is lost for my foolishness._

"Save the apologies for later, Pete."

"I don't think there is going to be a 'later' this time." He wasn't expecting Edmund to laugh and elbow him in the ribs, but it was such an ordinary response from his brother that Peter nearly laughed himself.

"There might be if you stop moping." And in an instant Peter knew he was forgiven, whether he deserved to be or not, and smiled.

He drew his sword and squared his shoulders, reminding himself silently that Edmund was right. He was a king first, and there was no place for guilt in the heart of a king leading his soldiers in a last, desperate battle. "Are you with me?"

He didn't need to look over to know Edmund had nodded. "By your side, my brother, until the end." There was really nothing else to be said as the guards closed ranks behind them, lifting shields and drawing weapons. The next moment the giants were upon them.

It is never pleasant to find yourself outnumbered by an enemy at least four times your height, and it is less pleasant still if there is an army only a few yards away which is completely incapable of helping. The minutes that followed the giants' furious charge could scarcely even be termed a battle. The Narnians found themselves becoming more outnumbered every moment, as more soldiers rallied to the giant King's side until the courtyard before the gates was so crowded that the giants themselves could barely move to attack. The Narnians were forced to retreat until their backs were against the wall, and the giants formed a barrier before them that was nearly as impenetrable as the stones behind them.

Peter ducked under the swing of a giant's club, and slashed somewhat ineffectively at his leather armoured legs, before he had to dodge to the side as another giant tried to crush him beneath its enormous foot. There was no order in the terrible, deadly press of bodies around him, and he found his feet knocked out from under him as a terrified faun broke from the ranks and tried to run, only to stumble and be thrown through the air by the swing of a giant's club.

Staggering to his feet, he realised in horror that somewhere in the shifting mass of frightened guards and stomping giants, he had lost sight of Edmund. The momentary distraction the realisation caused him nearly cost Peter his life, as a huge hand closed suddenly around his chest and lifted him effortlessly into the air. He struggled, kicking and trying to slash at the hand with his sword, but lost his hold on the weapon as the giant tightened his grip. Rhindon clattered to the paving stones below as Peter found himself staring into the furious, soot stained face of the giant King.

"You! Curse the day you came to my halls!" Had the giant not effectively forced the air from his lungs, Peter would have been inclined to respond that he quite agreed with him. As it was, he could do little save glare up at the enraged King and hope that the giant would have the courtesy to kill him quickly.

"You will die," said the King, tightening his grip enough to make Peter grit his teeth in pain. "Everyone you love will die, and Narnia will still be mine, as was promised long ago." He couldn't breathe and the giant's leering began to fade as darkness threatened to obscure his vision.

 _I'm sorry Ed, I did try._ But he knew he'd made an utter mess of everything from beginning to end. _Aslan protect them even though I have failed._

A Lion's roar, deafening and terrible, rose suddenly above the noise of the battle and everyone paused where they were, staring-the giants in horror and the Narnians in sudden hope-as the city gates and the towering walls trembled for a moment and then crumbled to dust. For a heartbeat there was silence, then the giants' King bellowed his rage to the sky before a red feathered arrow struck him in the left eye and he fell. Peter found himself tumbling through the air and realised vaguely that he was about to find out firsthand how inadvisable it was to be tossed about by a giant. Just before he struck the unforgiving stones of the courtyard, he heard the clear sound of a horn cut across the chaotic shouting as Orieus and the army charged forward to join the fray.

 _Forgive me._ Then thought and awareness faded as he slammed against the ground and lay still, surrounded by the chaos of battle but utterly unaware of it.

 **Sheesh! That was stressful; poor Peter! And Edmund. And...everyone.**

 **Many thanks to PaintingMusic14 for being an awesome beta reader and convincing me that this chapter really didn't need a sixth revision :-)**

 **Please leave me a review and don't forget to use the poll on my profile to vote on the next story I will write.**

 **Cheers,**

 **A**


	19. The Battle is Joined-Part II

**And here we have Susan and Lucy being generally awesome; hope everyone likes this chapter! :-)**

"PETER!" Susan knew her aim had been true, she saw the giant King falling, but she had underestimated his fury. In the last heartbeat of his life, he raised his arm and let Peter drop towards the paving stones forty feet below. By the time he struck the ground, Susan was already running. Around her, Orieus and the army charged through the dust of the destroyed wall and crashed against the line of giants with a deafening explosion of sound, but at that moment she did not care about anything save reaching the crumpled form of her older brother.

He lay terribly still, one arm twisted beneath him at an awkward angle, blood running freely from a cut on his forehead, and did not stir when she dropped to her knees beside him. With shaking hands, she felt for his pulse, desperately trying to calm her own heartbeat as she waited to feel the steady throb of blood beneath her fingers. She nearly sobbed in relief when she felt it, weak but wonderfully present against her fingertips.

"Lucy!" Susan scanned the ranks of soldiers urgently, searching for a flash of fair hair to indicate her sister's presence. _He's alive! Oh Aslan, thank you! But it was such a terribly long way to fall!_ "Lucy!" She saw her sister rushing towards her, hair flying in a wild tangle and cloak torn, but could not summon the words to scold her. Lucy had never looked more like a queen than she did the moment she knelt at Peter's side, cordial already in her hand.

As always there was the terrible, breathless moment of waiting before Peter coughed and cautiously opened his eyes. He blinked, rolled his shoulder as if testing that his arm really was mended, and sat up unsteadily, leaning his head wearily against Susan's shoulder as he drew Lucy into a hug with his other arm.

"That hurt." Susan giggled, nearly hysterical with relief, and finding his ineloquent but perfectly apt statement rather more amusing than she ordinarily would have. Peter huffed in mock indignation and leaned more heavily against her shoulder. "Edmund's going to kill me."

The three of them realised it at the same instant; Peter tensed, lifting his head from Susan's shoulder in sudden alarm, Lucy pulled away from Peter's embrace slightly, eyes scanning the courtyard swiftly, and Susan felt the panic which had lessened at Peter's revival sweep back over her as her hands began to shake again. Edmund wasn't there.

"Ed!" Peter staggered to his feet and Susan steadied him automatically-the cordial could heal any wound, but it was rather slow to do so with head wounds and the dizziness often persisted for hours or sometimes days-but he brushed her hand aside almost impatiently and stumbled back towards the main battle. Before he had gone more than three steps, Lucy gasped and suddenly darted past him, faster than either Peter or Susan could react to stop her.

* * *

"Lucy! Come back, you'll be crushed!" But Lucy wasn't listening to her sister's desperate command. She had caught sight of Edmund in the shifting mass of fighting soldiers and fleeing giants, and the giant he faced was stubbornly not fleeing, despite the obvious fact that the victory would belong to the Narnians. Lucy recognised the brute at once as the same one who had been her jailer (and nearly Edmund's murderer) and remembered in a flash her own determination; this giant's life belonged to her.

She barely had time to think as she darted to the giant's left, scrambling up a mound of rubble that had only moments before been the wall of a building and had collapsed as a giant blundered into it. She did however, have time to see Edmund stumble back, trip over an uneven stone, and fall, sword flying from his grasp as his head collided with the uneven ground. She could not remember ever being angrier than she was in that moment as she watched to giant raise his club to crush her brother.

What Lucy did next was long remembered as very brave by the soldiers who saw it, and very reckless by her terrified siblings. She jumped from the mound of rubble, scrambled up the plates of armour on the giant's back as if they formed a ladder, and pulled herself up onto his shoulder. The giant grunted in surprise, which swiftly turned to fury, as he realised he now had an angry, armed queen perched on his shoulder. Before he could do little more than curse and bat clumsily at her, Lucy had drawn her dagger and driven it deep into the side of his throat.

She felt a moment of blind terror as he swayed drunkenly, and she was forced to cling desperately to his hair, before he dropped to his knees and then fell forward, leaving Lucy to tumble the last couple of feet to the ground. She stumbled to her feet and stared at the body of the giant, feeling a queer sort of dizziness sweep over her as she realised that it was she who had killed him. Her knees buckled, for a moment she feared she would be sick, and then tears sprang to her eyes, blurring her vision and making her throat burn as she tried to hold them back. _I killed him._

Lucy found she was rather surprised by her own reaction. It wasn't that she regretted killing him-she didn't, not when it was a choice between his life and Edmund's-but it is a rather terrible thing to realise you have taken a life however necessary it may have been. She realised suddenly that this was why Susan had done everything she could to prevent her from riding to war with her brothers. Susan had killed before and knew how terrible it could be, but Lucy, for all her stubborn bravery, had failed to realise it fully before that moment.

It was Edmund who reached her first and wrapped his arms around her. She was not ashamed, even later, when she buried her face in his shoulder and sobbed. Then Peter was there, putting one arm around her and the other around Edmund, and Susan was smoothing her tangled hair and sternly telling her she must never do anything like that again. For a moment, despite her tears and the noise of battle that rose around their huddled group, Lucy felt content. For a moment, even in the midst of war, there was peace.

* * *

The battle was very nearly over. Most of the giant soldiers had either surrendered or been killed and the ordinary townsfolk had scattered, fleeing to the mountains in terror-not comprehending that the grim faced Narnians, for all their skill in battle, were far too noble to attack those who had not attacked them.

Peter, still dizzy and feeling rather giddy with relief that the nightmare was finally over, found a quiet corner of the courtyard and sat with his back against a wall, staring up at the sky. Night had fallen and it was nearly peaceful-the only sound being the occasionally crash of weapons in some distant street or a hoarsely shouted order. He knew as a king he should be leading his army even now, but Susan had strictly ordered him not to even consider going near the battle again, and for once he had not argued. It would hardly have seemed fair to disagree with her assessment of his health when she had already found him half dead once that day.

He looked back down from the sky-the stars were hidden by a pall of smoke-and scanned the courtyard quickly. There was Lucy, moving quickly through the wounded, cordial in her hand as she healed those near death and spoke soft words of comfort to those who were less severely wounded. Susan and Edmund were nowhere to be seen at first, but then he spotted them on the opposite side of the courtyard, arguing fiercely despite the fact that Susan appeared to be the only thing keeping Edmund from toppling over as he balanced precariously on one foot. Sighing Peter stood, intending to intervene, but Susan had evidently won the argument and, with a final glare at her, Edmund hobbled across the courtyard, rather dramatically threw himself down on a block of fallen masonry, and glared defiantly after Susan's retreating back.

Peter joined him a moment later and was unsurprised when Edmund studiously ignored him and closed his eyes, leaning his head back against a nearby wall.

"It's later," he said quietly, watching as Lucy helped a newly healed faun to his feet. Edmund made a vaguely annoyed noise, but otherwise remained silent. Peter nudged him impatiently in the ribs with his elbow. "Ed?"

Edmund opened one eye and glared at him. "Yes, you've been an idiot. Yes, I forgive you. No, I'm not hurt, I just sprained my ankle tripping over that bloody rock earlier and Susan is being overly motherly. If you even _think_ the word healer I will punch you." He crossed his arms, daring Peter to argue, and closed his eyes again.

Peter, never one to back down from a challenge, decided to risk annoying him further. "What I said to you was inexcusable, but I truly am sorry."

Edmund opened his eyes to glare at him again. "What are you going on about now, Pete?"

"I called you a traitor." _And I was the one guilty of treachery._ "I nearly killed you." _And you were going to let me._

"Oh, that," Edmund shrugged dismissively. "I'd forgotten." Peter knew that somehow, inexplicably he really had forgotten and shook his head in amazement. "It wasn't you saying those things, and in the end, you didn't kill me, so what's the use of remembering it?"

"Then what were you angry about?" He knew Edmund had been angry with him, terribly so.

"You aren't going to let this go, are you?" He sighed in resignation, sat up a trifle straighter and scowled darkly across the courtyard towards Lucy. "Fine, yes, I was angry. You ordered me to leave, made Lucy knock me out, and acted like an ass about the whole situation."

 _Ah, so that was it._ "And you wouldn't have done the same?"

"No, I wouldn't have." He kicked angrily at a clump of grass that had grown up between the paving stones. "Look here Peter, I know Aslan told Lucy to follow your orders so it must have been for the best, but you can't just tell people to knock me out when I don't follow your orders. I made a promise and you forced me to break it."

"I'm sorry." He hadn't really thought about it like that before, and suddenly his brother's earlier anger made perfect sense. _I know how I would feel._

"And I've forgiven you; can we move on now?" Judging by the annoyance in his tone, Peter knew there was still something upsetting him-likely the same thing that had caused him to nearly burn down an entire city.

"What really happened Ed? I asked Susan and she told me to ask Lucy, but-"

"Then ask Lucy!" Before Peter had time to formulate a response, Edmund had scrambled to his feet and was stumbling unsteadily back towards the smoking ruin of the castle. Peter watched him go with a mixture of frustration and concern. _What am I missing?_

Lucy, when he found her, did not seem inclined to be much more helpful in clearing up the mystery than Edmund had been. She sighed, pushed a tangle of hair back from her face, and turned towards the next cluster of wounded Narnians.

"Shouldn't you be asking Edmund?" She knelt next to a leopard with a twisted, bleeding leg and let a drop of cordial fall on the wound before standing and moving on to a dwarf with a nasty cut above his eye. She seemed to deem his injury less serious and spoke softly to him as she helped him to his feet.

Watching her, Peter could not help but feel a sense of loss mixed with the usual pride he felt when realising how grown up she had become. The wide eyed nine-year old who had trailed after him clutching her worn teddy bear was gone, and in her place was a young woman, growing tall and beautiful enough to rival Susan in the offers of marriage that were presented for her. Her eyes had not lost their wonder, but she was more serious now and the month or more of hiding in the mountains had taken their toll, even on her bright spirit. It was one more thing he had cause to regret.

"Peter?" She looked up from bending over a satyr with a broken neck-no amount of cordial could bring him back-and frowned at his silence.

"Sorry, I was thinking what a fool I've been," he admitted with a rueful smile. She rolled her eyes, rather resembling Edmund for a heartbeat, before she smiled.

"Well, stop. I'm sure we've all forgiven you without you needing to ask. You were enchanted; she could have fooled anyone."

"She didn't fool you, or Edmund, only me."

"Only you, a castle full of giants, and anyone else she came across." There was exasperation in her tone now. "Peter, when it comes to feeling guilty for things beyond your control you're nearly worse than Edmund! Honestly, one sulking brother is bad enough, don't you start as well."

That reminded him of his original reason for seeking Lucy out. "What did happen Lu? There's something terribly wrong and he won't talk to me." He looked miserably back towards the castle where Edmund had disappeared so suddenly.

Lucy sighed and impatiently brushed her hair back again-it kept falling across her face and was obviously annoying her-before shaking her head stubbornly. "Then make him talk to you."

"You didn't see him earlier. He ordered the guards to burn the city, then when we were leaving the castle a giant blundered in front of us and he panicked. I had to drag him out of there with him refusing to breathe the whole while, but before I had time to ask what the blazes was wrong, he'd jumped up and ordered the guards to stop." He ran a hand through his own hair distractedly.

Lucy crossed her arms and scowled, uncharacteristically cross. "Then ask him now."

"I did, he told me to ask you."

"Boys! Why do you all have to be so bloody stubborn!" She seemed to relent slightly when she saw his half desperate expression, and sat down wearily near the makeshift tent the other healers had hurriedly set up for the wounded. "I don't suppose he told you what happened after I was arrested?" Peter shook his head, turning his thoughts reluctantly back to the horrible moment he had realised he was unable to do more than watch as Lucy was carried away.

"The giant you killed, that was the same one who hurt Edmund and took you away, wasn't it?" Had it really only been a month? It seemed far longer ago.

Lucy nodded, expression darkening at the mention of the giant's death, and Peter silently reminded himself that he should talk to her about that as well. "I'm really not the best person to explain what happened-Metelus and Trebonius were the ones who were actually there."

Peter listened with slowly growing horror as she quietly recounted the tale told her by the satyr captain; how the guards had been killed, how Trebonius and Metelus themselves had barely managed to escape in the confusion, and how Edmund had been found.

"He never talked about it to me," Lucy concluded quietly, "But he's been having terrible nightmares ever since and it's no use trying to wake him. I was hoping he would talk to you." Peter diplomatically offered her a handkerchief before she could wipe the tears on her cheeks away with her filthy sleeve.

"I'm sorry Lu," he repeated miserably as she let her head drop against his shoulder. "None of this should ever have happened."

"It wasn't your fault," she insisted, voice muffled by tears and her head being buried against his shoulder. "Edmund doesn't blame you and neither do I."

"You should; all of you should. Susan had to ride to war because of me and kill to save my life, even though there's nothing she hates more. I just stood there and watched when they took you away, and then I sent you out into the mountains with an unconscious brother and an army of giants chasing you. And Edmund-" his voice caught in his throat and Lucy silently handed him back his handkerchief.

"I think, brother dear, that Susan would hate you being dead more than she hates riding to war and killing. Aslan is the one who sent me into the mountains with an unconscious brother and an army of giants chasing me," she lifted her head, eyes twinkling with sudden amusement. "I confess I wouldn't have done it for you. You would have had to knock us both out to get us to leave if Aslan hadn't told me to follow your orders. And Edmund," she shrugged and put her head back against his shoulder though her tears had stopped. "That is a conversation you need to have with him; he's forgiven you but that doesn't mean he's alright." Lucy yawned, and Peter couldn't help smiling as she shifted even closer and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"I know. Lu, don't you think you ought to go to bed?" She mumbled something indistinctly into his shoulder and gave no indication that she was going to move. Peter smiled fondly and kissed her tangled hair. "Alright Lu. Sleep well." After all, there were worse things in life than having your baby sister fall asleep on your shoulder.

 **I couldn't resist the opportunity for fluff at the end :-)**

 **Leave me a review and let me know what you thought! Many thanks once again to my awesome betareader PaintingMusic14, and to everyone who has read and reviewed this story so far! A resolution is fast approaching, so keep reading!**

 **Cheers,**

 **A**


	20. Queens and Plots

**So...apologies in advance...I originally planned to make Edmund talk to Peter in this chapter, but Edmund and Susan had other ideas and refused to cooperate. Once again I was forced to argue with literary characters...Needless to say they won. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter anyway and the next one will be posted soon.**

Susan was not particularly surprised to find Edmund with the horses. At first, she had expected to find him with Peter, and was rather surprised when it was Lucy she found asleep on her older brother's shoulder instead. After ushering them both to bed-Lucy hadn't even stirred and in the end Peter had carried her-Susan turned her own increasingly weary steps towards the section of the courtyard where the horses had bedded down for the night. If her stubborn younger brother wasn't with Peter he would be with Philip, and that was where she found him.

Philip was laying down, half curled around her brother protectively, and undoubtedly fast asleep. Edmund was leaning back against the Horse's neck, eyes closed, and appearing (to anyone unused to his actual sleeping habits, at least) to be as fast asleep as his Horse. Susan however, was not so easily fooled.

She sat down a safe distance away, she had learned quickly after coming to Narnia that if she planned on startling one of her brothers it was better to do so from further away than the reach of a sword, and tossed a blanket at his head. He caught it, glaring blearily at her from under half closed eyelids, and sighed.

"I'm fine Su. My ankle isn't broken, I didn't hit my head that hard, and I just want to sleep."

Just then Susan wasn't sure if older brothers or younger brothers were more annoying. Peter had responded to her queries about his health in much the same way, and with far better justification considering the worst of his injuries had been healed. She wisely decided not to debate the truth of Edmund's insistent statements, instead settling for rolling her eyes and making a feeble attempt at humour. "Of course, dear brother, that would explain why you are sitting here not sleeping."

He laughed, though she could tell it was more from a desire to humour her than because he actually found her remark funny. "It isn't for lack of trying. At least you managed to get Peter to go to sleep."

"How can you be so sure I did?" She wondered, as she always did, how her brothers could be so certain of what the other was doing without being told.

"Because, you're the one pestering me and not him."

She really didn't know what to say to that, and they sat in silence for a long moment. Edmund had closed his eyes again, obviously hoping that pretending to sleep would force her to leave, and Susan found herself wondering what on Earth (or anywhere else for that matter) she could say to him.

"I'm worried about Lucy." At last she decided to steer the conversation back to a topic he would be more likely to acknowledge as worthy of his time.

"So am I; she shouldn't have had to do that."

 _Blast! Of course, he would be feeling guilty about it._ She silently added a few more, less queenly words to phrase, and was surprised when Edmund grinned and tossed a handful of hay at her.

"Your ears turn red when you curse," he said matter-of-factly, though there was still a hint of amusement in his expression.

"They do not! Besides, I wasn't." _And you're one to talk about cursing, young man!_

"Not audibly. But, about Lucy, I wish that hadn't happened." The amusement was gone as quickly as it had come and he was back to looking exhausted.

"I suppose that's part of being an older sibling; wishing some things hadn't happened but not being able to do anything about it."

"I thought we were talking about Lucy."

"We are." _But she isn't the only one I'm worried about._

He sighed in exasperation and disappeared under the blanket she had tossed at him until only his forehead and a tangle of dark hair was visible. "I know you're worried about me," his voice was slightly muffled by the blanket and Susan smiled, remembering a much younger Edmund trailing after her dragging a quilt. It was a strange memory and she wasn't quite sure where it had come from-it wasn't a memory from Narnia that much she was sure of-but it served to further emphasise her earlier point. _None of us will ever be that young again._ And she didn't necessarily mean age in the physical sense.

"I am worried." It was somehow easier to talk to him when she couldn't see his expression. "You never talk about things when you need to and then everything gets so terribly out of hand. The next thing I know you, or Peter, or both of you will come galloping home half dead, because you're both too bloody stubborn to talk about what's bothering you and would rather go charging into danger so you can forget!"

Philip swished his tail along the ground in annoyance at the volume of her voice but did not wake, and the blanket covered lump that was Edmund did not visibly respond. Susan clenched her fists in frustration. _Younger brothers-they are definitely more annoying,_ she decided, resolving her earlier uncertainty. "Lucy told me what happened," she continued, lowering her voice so she would not wake Philip. "And I saw what happened with the giant in the castle."

"I don't want to talk about it." The stubbornly insistent words were almost too quiet for her to hear, but they were clear enough to make her grit her teeth and consider throwing something more solid than a blanket at her idiotic brother. _When will he learn that it's perfectly acceptable to admit when something is wrong?_

"No," she said at last, trying to make her voice sound reasonable. "But you need to."

"Fine. I'll talk to Peter; happy now?" She was, and also rather surprised by his quick agreement, but she was not about to complain.

"Thrilled. Will you really though? Promise?" The blanket shifted down infinitesimally, and he scowled at her.

"You, dear sister, have my word of honour that I will speak with him."

Susan stood and kissed his forehead before he could object. "In the morning?" She asked, deciding to risk annoying him further.

"Certainly Su, whatever you like." He disappeared entirely under the blanket now and Susan smiled; she didn't quite have the heart to tell him that it was _already_ morning.

* * *

Edmund, through no purely intentional fault of his own, had no opportunity to speak to Peter that morning. He had just fallen into an uneasy sleep when he woke to find Metelus shaking his shoulder urgently. No amount of grumbling or attempting to burrow back under the blanket Susan had brought him would dissuade the old faun from his mission, and Edmund reluctantly admitted defeat and opened his eyes.

Metelus, very used to his student's morning mood, handed him a tin mug of coffee and smiled over his spectacles. "Forgive the disturbance, your majesty, but I have been informed that the Green Lady possessed an extensive library. Perhaps you might assist me?"

Edmund mumbled something incoherent in response as he fumbled with his boots, finding that he could not get the left one on over his swollen ankle. Abandoning the fruitless attempt, he tossed both boots into an untidy heap with his socks and resigned himself to going barefoot. Susan would likely murder him if she ever found out, but he was in no mood to continue fighting with treacherous footwear.

The coffee was rather warmer than he had anticipated, scalding in fact, and his first coherent statement of the day turned out to be a particularly colourful string of words he had picked up from a Calormen soldier. Metelus raised his eyebrows and shook his greying head in mock despair. Philip, awake at last, lifted his head and snorted quietly in amusement. Edmund glared at the pair of them, daring either to comment, and got stiffly to his feet.

"The library, your majesty," Metelus said with a mixture of exasperation and amusement.

Edmund scowled, balancing awkwardly on one foot, and tried to remember what exactly the faun had been saying. "What about it? I didn't burn it down, did I? I seem to recall giving the guards strict instructions not to; I thought you might find some of her books informative."

"No, the library was untouched by the fire, and I hope to find her books extremely informative, her correspondence even more so. Perhaps if your majesty would accompany me?" He coughed, a reminder that not long ago he had been ill, and Edmund nodded without further complaint. If an ill, elderly faun could drag himself out of bed at such an unacceptable hour (in reality it was nearing midday) then Edmund had no acceptable excuse to not accompany him.

Philip lifted his head and glared fiercely, first at Edmund then at Metelus. "Keep him out of trouble, won't you? I'll have grey hairs in my mane by the end of the year at this rate!"

"Perhaps for once I will have some success in that respect," Metelus said gravely but with a quick, nervous glance in Edmund's direction.

Edmund only rolled his eyes. "If I'm not allowed to sleep perhaps we could get on with it?"

The library, as Metelus had said, was one of the few rooms in the castle where the fire had not spread, and under different circumstances Edmund might have been eager to explore the vast rows of book covered shelves. As it was, he sat gratefully in the nearest chair, propped his fantastically bruised and swollen ankle up on another chair, and glared at the stack of parchment Metelus presented him with.

The letters were written in a beautiful, elegant hand that seemed vaguely familiar, and there were at least two hundred of them. "Any of these in particular, or am I going to be here for the next week?" Edmund asked miserably.

Metelus diplomatically said nothing as he split the pile into two equal halves and retreated to an adjacent chair.

The first letter was more a list of names than a proper letter, and half way down the first column Edmund spotted a familiar title. _Tumnus the Faun, currently residing in Lantern Waste; loyalty is questionable._ Frowning he set the list aside for more careful consideration and turned to the next letter.

 _To The Lady of the Green Kirtle, heir apparent of Harfang and of the White Throne, Enchantress in her own right and loyal daughter; Greetings and Salutations from Her Imperial Majesty-_

"I should have guessed." His hands shook as he passed the letter to Metelus, suddenly feeling sick to his stomach as he at last recognised the handwriting.

Metelus' face lost all colour as he scanned the page quickly. "Her Imperial Majesty, Jadis, Queen of Narnia, Chatelaine of Cair Paravel, Empress of the Lone Islands-King Edmund, forgive me, I did not know-perhaps the High King would…" he let the sentence trail into silence, stopping just short of questioning Edmund's ability to put aside personal experiences when necessary.

Edmund silently took the letter back, feeling rather foolish. _It's a letter; there's nothing dangerous in that._ Still, he couldn't quite keep his hands from shaking as he continued reading. The first half of the page seemed to be a simple exchange of pleasantries, but the second half was far more informative.

 _There have been rumours and whispers abroad in the kingdom of late. I have heard tidings of the accursed Lion's return and of the coming of the Four. Daughter, I tell you plainly that I shall destroy them, but, if by treachery or foul magic, they should prove victorious I charge you to avenge me. May a thousand curses fall upon you if you fail to do so, for it will not only be my life that is lost, but my kingdom which shall be corrupted by these prattling fools who follow the Lion. I have no doubt that our beguiled King will aid you in your enterprise should the need arise. Promise him what you must to keep his devotion unshaken-even if it be one half of Narnia in exchange for his assistance. He will be easily dealt with in the end._

There was more, but it ran much along the same lines, and Edmund put the letter aside. Metelus was watching him over his spectacles, looking very shaken, and he forced a smile. "Well, I suppose that explains rather a lot." The discovery was less upsetting than he might have expected. She had failed, they were all alive, and Narnia remained free; since she was dead, and the Green Lady was injured badly enough to flee, what more could she do? It was a reassuring thought and Edmund reached for the next stack of papers, ignoring Metelus' mumbled protest. _I'm not entirely helpless,_ he thought crossly, but chose not to make the remark aloud.

There were hundreds of pages; lists of spies and strongholds, names of rebels the Witch had turned to stone in the hundred years of her reign, and pages upon pages of instructions for various enchantments. Hours later, he looked up from a particularly complicated spell, which would enable the caster to trap a living spirit within an inanimate object, to find an annoyed Susan glaring at him from the doorway.

"So," she crossed her arms and scowled fiercely. "Are you aware that Peter has been looking for you all day?"

Metelus rose, bowed, and then diplomatically attempted to disappear behind a heavy book. Edmund briefly wished he could follow suit. "I'm sorry, Su. I lost track of time." He smiled, hoping that would appease her somewhat. It did not appear to and her expression darkened still further.

"Edmund Pevensie! Where are your shoes?" Her voice rose in volume painfully as her eyes flashed dangerously. He would almost have rather faced a giant just then.

"In the stables," he responded meekly. "My ankle was too swollen-"

He instantly realised his mistake when she rounded furiously on Metelus. "And you thought it was a good idea to drag him up here with a sprained ankle? Really Metelus, I expected better of you!"

The faun's naturally red face turned redder still as he shuffled his hooves, bowing and mumbling an indistinct apology. Edmund threw him a sympathetic smile and limped forward to take his sister's arm. "He was quite right to bring me here and it's my own fault I lost track of time. Allow me to offer my sincerest apologies, dear sister."

Susan huffed, unimpressed, but her scowl faded. "Very well, but you are going to talk to Peter _now_ , even if I have to personally escort you."

"I did promise; I was going to find him at some point." _Even if it was rather convenient to lose track of time._ "Metelus, a word?" Susan retreated a few steps with a resigned sigh, though she tapped her foot impatiently on the polished floor.

The unfortunate faun shuffled his hooves uneasily, stealing terrified glances in her direction and Edmund had to bite back a laugh. "She's not nearly as intimidating once you get to know her," he reassured his tutor quietly.

Metelus shook his head. "I daren't get to know her; I fear I have greatly offended her and I am not certain how or in what way I can make amends."

Shrugging, Edmund glanced back at his impatient elder sister as she cleared her throat. "I can assure you there is no need to make amends. She isn't cross with you; if she were it would be painfully obvious." He hastily pushed the Green Lady's letters under a heavy volume of Ettin history. "You must not breathe a word of what we have found to anyone, least of all my brother the High King, he would be unduly distressed to learn he was nearly the willing slave of the White Witch's daughter-even if she was not so by blood."

Metelus shifted uneasily again, hooves clacking against the marble tiles. "But surely he must be told! I mean no disrespect, but is it proper to keep such information from him?"

"No, but it is necessary." _He's unbearable enough as it is._

"As you say, King Edmund." But he looked thoroughly miserable, and Edmund did not miss the fact that he hadn't actually promised.

"Do I have your word then?" He felt rather guilty for forcing the matter, but Peter really couldn't know.

Metelus sighed, nodding. "I swear in Aslan's name and that of His Great Father, The Emperor Over the Sea; I shall tell no one what we have discovered here, least of all the High King."

Edmund smiled gratefully at him and limped after Susan, expecting (quite correctly) that she would have much more to say once they were out of earshot of the old faun.

"You look like a Calormen beggar," she began crossly.

"I really was going to find Peter," he assured her quietly, knowing that was the true source of her annoyance.

"I know, I trust you to keep your word, but I would prefer you keep it more promptly." She smiled reluctantly. "I fear I rather upset poor Metelus."

"Upset? The poor chap is terrified of falling prey to your wrath. He seems to have forgotten that you are the Gentle Queen and not prone to fits of murderous rage."

Susan laughed, appeased by the teasing tone of his words, and allowed him to escort her through the arched doorway. The rest of the castle was soot covered and gutted by the fire, and Edmund studiously avoided looking at anything too closely. It wasn't blatantly unjust to burn down an enemy fortress, but it was a good deal harsher than his usual methods of securing victory and he couldn't help but feel vaguely regretful. _There might have been a better way if I had stopped to look for one._ But it was no good dwelling on what could have happened; the past would not change.

He didn't mean to fall asleep when Susan left him alone in Peter's tent with a cold compress on his ankle and strict instructions not to move. He was too exhausted to try avoiding the impending conversation that he really didn't want to have and the exhaustion happily took the conscious choice from him and he fell asleep.

 **Please leave me a review! Many thanks to everyone who has already reviewed and special thanks to PaintingMusic14 for being a beta reader extraordinaire!**

 **Anyone else a little worried by the fact that Edmund, who has really bad nightmares according to Lucy, just fell asleep? Yes? Good. See you next chapter!**

 **Cheers,**

 **A**


	21. Breaking Point

**I realise that some of the themes I have explored in this story have a potential to be problematic for some readers. While no one has raised any concerns yet I do want to give everyone a chance to understand why I have written what I have the way that I have written it. This is a lengthy explanation so I chose to post it on my user profile, rather than in the author's notes, so please, if you have questions or concerns please visit my profile page before continuing to read.**

 **That being said, I hope you can appreciate this chapter and if you have further questions please feel free to send me a private message :-)**

Peter was amused at first when Susan directed him back to his tent and he found his younger brother fast asleep, leaning back in his chair with his ankle propped up on another chair. _Goodness knows he needs sleep,_ Peter thought, watching him with concern. Beneath the grime that streaked it his face was terribly pale, except for the dark circles under his eyes that made it look like someone had punched him, and it was painfully obvious now how thin he had become. Peter sighed and sat down on the floor as both chairs were currently unavailable, and wondered if it was worth waking Edmund up to make sure he ate. Before he could decide, he heard a strangled cry and realised that his brother's sleep was no longer peaceful.

Lucy and Susan had both warned him about the nightmares, but somehow he hadn't expected it to be this bad. If he had thought Edmund's face pale before, it was ghostly now, his jaw was clenched as if in pain, and his eyes moved restlessly beneath his eyelids. He cried out again, a choked sound that ended abruptly as he suddenly seemed unable to breathe. Forgetting Lucy's cautionary words about attempting to wake Edmund, Peter shook his shoulder urgently. "Ed! Wake up! Eddie, it's alright, it's Peter, wake up."

He should have known better than to startle him, but his worry had overcome his sense and for a moment he forgot the innumerable reasons that existed for not trying to wake his brother. Edmund's eyes flew open in terror and he struck out blindly-Peter barely ducked in time to avoid a stunning blow to his head. "Edmund! It's alright; calm down!"

The wild eyes blinked once, staring up at Peter in horror, before Edmund threw himself off the chair with a strangled cry and darted under the table. Peter stared after him, torn between concern and guilt. _That was nicely handled! Idiot!_

He sat back down on the floor-careful not to make any sudden movements this time-and peered under the somewhat unsteady table. Edmund was huddled under the back corner of it, as far away from Peter as he could get within the confines of the tent, and his knees were drawn up in front of his chest with his forehead resting between them. His shoulders were shaking and for a moment Peter thought it was with terror, then he realised that Edmund was crying, silently but with so much force that it shook his whole body.

"What happened Ed? What made you like this?" The question was largely rhetorical and Edmund did not answer or even seem to hear, and Peter wondered desperately if he was managing to breathe.

Peter shifted closer. "Eddie?" _There has to be something I can do!_ Edmund edged away, the movement barely perceptible, but it was enough to make Peter pause and reluctantly withdraw the arm he had been about to put around his shaking shoulders. Peter was used to dealing with Edmund's nightmares, or rather allowing Edmund to deal with them himself, but this was different. This time Edmund hadn't woken up to reluctantly listen as Peter reassured him and then shrugged the whole matter off with a crooked smile; this time it seemed more like he hadn't woken up at all.

"Ed?" He cautiously extended a hand towards him, much more slowly this time and was careful to keep his voice low and conversational. "It's me; do you think you can come out from under the table now?"

Edmund didn't lift his head or respond, and Peter silent berated himself for being so useless. _I should know how to help him; somehow, I should be able to figure it out!_

"Come on Ed, I promise it's safe. I'm sorry I startled you, I should have been more careful, please come out so we can talk?" No response. "Alright, if you won't come out do you mind if I join you?" Ordinarily he would have laughed at the seeming absurdity of the situation. The table really was rather tiny and it was a wonder Edmund had managed to wedge himself under it; Peter wasn't entirely sure he could manage it himself, but if that was the only way to get his brother to talk to him, it was worth trying. In the end, he got his head and shoulders under the somewhat rickety construction and wriggled backwards cautiously until he was more or less sitting next to his silently sobbing brother.

"So, what are you doing under here?" he asked lightly, leaning back on his elbows and staring up at the splintered, scarred wood less than an inch above his head. This time he got a muffled, indistinguishable response, though that was better than nothing. "I didn't quite catch that, sorry."

"Hiding." Edmund turned his head slightly to answer, though he still kept his face buried in the crook of his left arm.

"From anything in particular?"

"It doesn't matter." Before Narnia, Peter would have taken the words, and the hint of bitterness in his brother's voice, at face value and given up trying to get him to talk. Now, he understood Edmund's moods well enough to realise the bitterness was not directed at him.

"It matters to me." Peter risked putting a hand on one of Edmund's shaking shoulders and was relieved when he didn't immediately flinch away. "I want to help." He let the following silence stretch on for a long moment, listening to his brother's breathing slowly become steadier as the tears passed. "I don't know how," he admitted quietly into the near silence.

Edmund tensed, withdrawing ever so slightly. "Neither do I," his voice was hoarse and quiet, but steady, and Peter was grateful for that at least.

"Do you want to talk about it? If you don't I won't force you to." The silence returned, oppressive and tense, but Peter meant what he said and if Edmund didn't want to talk he would respect that choice.

"No," Edmund said at last, raising his head from where it rested against his knees. His eyes were bloodshot and his face was streaked with soot and tears, but his expression was calm. _Almost too calm,_ Peter thought. _Like a lull between two storms._ Susan would have laughed if she knew he was thinking even remotely poetically, and he spared a moment to be glad she did not. Peter opened his mouth to respond, to assure Edmund that he would keep his word and not force him to talk, but Edmund shook his head, obviously not done speaking. "Unfortunately," he said after another moment's silence, voice shaking only slightly. "Susan is right; I do need to talk, even though I don't want to."

Peter nodded, forgetting how close bottom of the table was and hissing sharply in pain when the top of his head collided with the wood. "Is it alright if we talk sitting at the table, rather than under it?"

Edmund laughed, a strange, fragile sound that was closer to a stifled sob than anything else, but nodded all the same. "I'm really not sure what you're doing under here, you great lummox."

A few sharp cracks to the head and mumbled expletives later, Peter had managed to extricate himself from beneath the table, followed by Edmund who managed it with an annoying lack of difficulty. They faced each other across the table uncertainly, and Peter felt a strange sense of panic himself. _He might as well be a stranger with my brother's face for how little I understand him right now._ But he forced the thought away impatiently as he dropped onto the nearest chair and pushed the other in Edmund's direction. "Sit down and put your foot up before you fall over."

Edmund raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you actually suggesting I put my feet on the table? Susan would most definitely not approve."

"Susan is currently chasing Lucy with a hairbrush, trying to return some semblance of order to her appearance; I don't think she'll notice just this once."

Edmund's laugh was less fragile this time, a fact Peter was infinitely grateful for. The flimsy wooden folding chair creaked dubiously as Edmund leaned back in it and obediently propped his swollen ankle up on the edge of the equally unsteady table.

"So," Peter said uncertainly, risking imminent disaster by leaning back in his own chair.

"So?" His brother parroted back, changing the inflection only slightly. "I suppose Lucy must have told you something."

"Something," Peter agreed quietly, risking his safety even further by putting his own feet on the table. His chair shifted menacingly but did not collapse.

"I never thought I'd be grateful for snow," Edmund said quietly, surprising Peter with the seeming non-sequitur. "I still hate it," he added thoughtfully. "But it also saved us quite a few times in the mountains, as strange as that sounds, considering it also almost killed us."

Peter wasn't entirely sure where this train of thought was leading, but he knew better than to interrupt.

"The giant's hunting parties would have found us many times over if it hadn't snowed and hidden our tracks. I didn't expect them to be so persistent in their hatred; they never stopped hunting us, even when we got better at hiding." Edmund had leant his head back and was staring up at the canvas ceiling, expression distant. "Lucy was brilliant; she got us out of the city somehow, I was never sure how, and found Trebonius and the others on her own. I was rather useless; I slept for three days even after she used the cordial to heal me."

Peter nodded silently, not knowing what else to do and biting back the question he had been wanting to ask for weeks. Edmund seemed to understand what he wanted to know regardless of his silence and shrugged. "According to Lucy I'm lucky I didn't manage to stab myself in the heart or lungs with one of my own ribs."

"More like stubborn," Peter muttered darkly before he could stop himself. He couldn't help but remember how terribly pale Edmund's face had been as he knelt before him, waiting for his brother to kill him with his own sword.

"It wasn't your fault." Peter looked up guiltily, realising that his ever-perceptive brother was glaring at him across the table, daring him to argue. "You can't blame yourself for everything that goes wrong, especially when you couldn't have stopped any of it from happening."

"Weren't we talking about you, not me?"

"If you stop feeling guilty maybe. I know," he added with a sigh. "It's a classic case of the pot calling the kettle black. By the way, I never really understood that saying; isn't a kettle generally shiny?"

Peter shrugged, unwilling to be drawn into what would likely prove to be a rather rambling analysis of popular idioms. _He's trying to distract me because, however much he needs to talk, he doesn't want to. Well, it isn't going to work, especially when I should be the one dealing with this instead._ They were silent again for a long moment before Edmund's scowl returned. "Stop it," he said crossly.

"Stop what?" Genuinely confused, Peter frowned back at his brother.

"You're wondering what would have changed if you'd gotten in that giant's way instead of me." He'd been doing precisely that, and Peter felt his cheeks flush in embarrassment at being caught. "It wouldn't have changed what happened," Edmund went on, staring back up at the ceiling. "Except that you would be the one sitting here, not me, and it's far better that it is me."

"Why?"

"Because Narnia needs you," he said it like it was the most obvious answer in the world and Peter wanted desperately to interrupt, but Edmund did not give him the chance. "Don't look at me like that; you're the High King, Narnia needs you fully capable of facing enemies without panicking and forgetting to breathe."

"And Narnia needs the King in charge of justice to be able to judge clearly and reasonably." Peter found that he was rather shocked by his own statement and regretted the harshness of it immediately. _You're supposed to be helping; not making things worse!_ He thought in exasperation, but Edmund only nodded, eyes still fixed on the ceiling.

"I know. That's why we're having this conversation. I was terribly wrong to give the orders I did, and I should have realised it sooner. I suppose I wanted revenge for what they had done to Lucy, for how they followed the Green Lady, and I suppose for what they did to me. It wasn't reasonable or just."

"If I'd known then what happened, I would have burned the city myself and likely everything between here and Ettinsmoor," Peter muttered darkly, glaring down at the scarred wood of the table. It might not have been a particularly helpful statement, but Edmund snorted in amusement and shifted his weight, making his chair groan in protest.

"There is a reason your temper is not in charge of the courts. Although, I'm not sure my knack for being petty should be either."

"Petty?!" Really, that was too much. That was his breaking point. He leapt to his feet, knocking his chair over in the process and kicking it away crossly. "They tried to kill you! They left you there to die, trapped under the bodies of your guards. Lion's Mane Edmund! I'm not saying it would have been right to burn their city, but it would hardly have been petty!"

"Alright," Edmund spread his hands on the tabletop in a placating gesture. "But please, sit back down and try not to shout. You'll have half the army in here in a minute." Peter might have stayed on his feet shouting, not caring who heard, if he had not seen the almost imperceptible way Edmund flinched away from him when he stood. He righted his chair, still fuming, and dropped back into it, rather surprised when it didn't immediately collapse.

"Not petty then," Edmund mused quietly. "But certainly not right. Have you ever wondered what it's like for a soldier who's died in battle to be left behind on the field?" A hint of panic came back into his voice, and Peter silently cursed his earlier loss of temper. The last thing his brother needed was to be yelled at. He shook his head silently, not daring to speak.

"I hadn't either, and I didn't expect to remember finding out."

"The only difference being you weren't actually dead." Peter stared at a deep crack in the table, tracing the pattern it made with his index finger and trying desperately not to cry. He vaguely remembered being some other place, sitting on his grandmother's lap, and listening as she talked with their mother.

" _He never really came back, you know?"_ She had said shakily, thinking Peter was too interested in the picture book she held to be interested in their conversation. _"He still dreams about it at night, even after all these years; the trenches and the terrible fear those poor men lived in, knowing every moment they could be buried in a mudslide when it rained or blown to bits by the bombs."_

Peter shook his head, impatient with himself for remembering that now. _But why should it be any different here? True, there aren't bombs or guns, but there's still war and death everywhere we turn._

"I'll be alright Pete. Talking helps, I think." Peter risked glancing over at him and saw that Edmund too was studying the table as if it held some previously hidden answer. "I suppose it's too much to ask that one conversation solves everything. Every time I fall asleep, really fall asleep, I'm back there. I didn't know at the time what they were doing, but I heard them talking, saying how they were going to kill everyone. They knew I was alive, conscious even, and they laughed and talked about how I would stop breathing soon enough. I-I couldn't move, or breathe-I knew I was dead, but my mind insisted I was still alive. I couldn't just give up-I wanted to, I must have, but I couldn't. Does that make any sense?"

Peter couldn't answer, but sensed he didn't need to. After all, what could he say? It didn't make sense to him, but he hadn't been there. _They knew! The left him there, knowing he was alive and conscious, knowing it might take him hours to die, and they still left him there._ He ground his teeth together. He would have burned the whole country, slaughtered everyone who could even remotely have been blamed for what they had done to his brother. _Does that include yourself?_ he wondered darkly. _It was my fault as much as if I threw him there myself._

"It will get better, won't it? With time?" That was a non-rhetorical question, and even though Peter had been expecting it he wasn't prepared for the feeling of helplessness that swept over him as he tried to find the right answer. There wasn't a right answer; there wasn't anything he could say to erase the past or to secure the future.

 _Aslan, give me wisdom._ But it was Edmund, and not Aslan who was staring at him from across the table with pleading eyes as his hands shook. "Yes," Peter said at last, squaring his shoulders and meeting his brother's eyes stubbornly. "It will, and I'll be here for you the whole time. Talk to me or don't, but I'll be here and you will get through this."

A moment later both chairs crashed to the ground as Peter unexpectedly found himself with his arms full of a sobbing younger brother and his chair at last gave up the struggle and splintered beneath their combined weight. Neither one of them really noticed. Peter tucked the younger boy's head under his chin and wrapped both arms around his thin shoulders, finally letting his own tears fall.

"I've failed you so terribly! I'm sorry, Eddie, I'm so sorry!" He wasn't even sure Edmund heard him but it didn't matter. _I won't let them hurt you again. I won't ever hurt you like that again. I swear it._ "It's going to be alright, I'm here, you'll be okay." He repeated the words almost nonsensically, hoping that Edmund at least could find some comfort in hearing his voice. _Oh Aslan! Can't you help him?_

 _My child,_ whispered the voice of the Lion ever so gently. _I have helped him; I have given him you._

 **So there's that! At least Peter and Edmund final got to talk, even if it didn't immediately solve everything. There are just a couple things left to wrap up, maybe two chapters and an epilogue or three chapters; it really depends. Thank you to PaintingMusic14 for her wonderful beta reading and thank you all for reading and reviewing. Please do let me know what you think of this chapter :-)**

 **Cheers,**

 **A**


	22. Unbroken

**Well, here's this. I had to bring Linus back at least once more because he is just too much fun to write :-)**

"King Edmund?" He had managed to convince Peter he needed to go back to the Green Lady's library, had successfully avoided Susan and Metelus, but he was less successful in dodging Linus' incessant questions. He turned to see the wolfhound loping unsteadily towards him and reluctantly paused to wait.

"Yes, Linus?"

Linus wagged his tail and hopped excitedly on three legs. "Did you hurt your paw too, King Edmund? Queen Lucy says I'm not to go running about until mine is better.

"Then perhaps, good cousin, you should be obeying your queen?" He was beginning to see what Peter meant about incorrigibly energetic creatures. However fond he was of Linus, it was rather tiring to be followed everywhere he went.

Linus sniffed, unimpressed. "I'm sure Queen Lucy will understand! I have three paws that aren't hurt-it hardly seems fair that I have to rest because of the one that is. You only have two paws; aren't you supposed to be resting as well, King Edmund?" He tilted his head to one side and watched Edmund intently.

"I'm sure Queen Lucy will understand," Edmund echoed, reluctantly giving in to amusement. He limped forward a few more steps, closely followed by Linus, before the Dog spoke again.

"Are you sad, King Edmund? Is that an impertinent question?" he added quickly, tail drooping suddenly. "Queen Susan says I mustn't ask impertinent questions."

Edmund considered the query for a moment, pausing again to look across the courtyard to where a clump of uncharacteristically quiet Dogs were huddled together. "Why do you ask Linus?"

The wolfhound followed his gaze and whined softly. "Because my pack is sad, and I thought maybe you were too." He looked up at Edmund with mournful eyes.

"I'm not sad Linus." _Sad isn't quite the right word; exhausted might be more accurate._ "How are they?" He abandoned all hope of actually reaching the library and sat down against the nearest wall with Linus beside him.

"They don't talk much," Linus said wistfully, staring at the distant Dogs. "They haven't forgotten how, have they King Edmund?"

"No," said Edmund slowly, wondering how to explain exactly why the Dogs barely spoke now. "They just aren't used to talking much now. They had to be very quiet for a long time."

"So the giants wouldn't eat them?" Linus whined again, the hair on his back rippling in agitation.

 _Do giants eat other Creatures?_ Edmund wondered, not for the first time, and impatiently pushed the thought away. The giants were unpleasant enough to think about without adding further savagery to their actions. "So they wouldn't be caught, yes."

"But they're safe now; why are they still frightened?"

 _Why indeed?_ It was a question he didn't have answer for-either in respect to himself or the Dogs-and he shrugged, wishing he had a better response for the faithful Creature at his side.

Linus sighed and rested his head on his paws. "Maybe it's because King Peter is gathering the giants together again today."

That was news to Edmund. He turned to Linus with a questioning look and the Dog immediately covered his nose with his uninjured paw and glanced around in horror. "Oh dear! King Peter said you weren't to know anything about it! He'll be ever so cross!" He turned pleading eyes on Edmund and wagged his tail hopefully. "Please don't let him turn me into a hat?"

 _Peter really needs to stop using that threat; they take him far too seriously!_ He remembered with amusement the rumours that had spread concerning Mr. Beaver, Peter, and whether or not Finchley was a land where kings possessed the necessary magic to turn their subjects into hats when annoyed. "If you tell me where he is I will see what I can do," Edmund promised gravely-hiding his amusement with some difficulty.

"He's in the castle courtyard with the General," Linus mumbled miserably from beneath his paw. "But he really did say you weren't to know anything about it."

"We'll see about that," Edmund muttered darkly, amusement forgotten as he limped angrily towards the remains of the castle gates. _And this is precisely why talking to idiotic, protective older brothers is a last resort._

* * *

"You have no right!"

Peter winced at the volume of his younger brother's voice and looked helplessly towards Orieus for assistance, but the Centaur's expression was unreadable as usual. _Let it never be said that Edmund does not have a temper to rival mine,_ he thought distractedly. "On the contrary; I have every right to call a meeting with the remaining giants."

"You have no right to order me not to be there or to try keeping any knowledge of the meeting from me," Edmund clarified unnecessarily, still speaking more loudly than he usually did.

Peter sighed and looked helplessly towards Orieus again. "Edmund, I think it's best for everyone if you leave this meeting to me. I will even promise not to behead anyone," he added the last words as a light attempt at humour, but Edmund seemed impressively unamused.

"Perhaps, your majesty, under the circumstances it would be wise to heed the High King's advice," Orieus interceded (before Edmund could find anything to throw at Peter's head).

Edmund turned his furious glare on the Centaur. "Under the circumstances? What circumstances would those be, General?"

Unintimidated as ever, Orieus stared down at him calmly and made no move to reply. Peter gritted his teeth and nodded to him, silently dismissing him. The Centaur bowed and withdrew to a more diplomatic distance, though Peter was quite certain he could still hear every word they said. Edmund crossed his arms, glaring more fiercely still, and Peter wondered yet again how his brother could be so cross at times and still manage to be diplomatic when dealing with troublesome Calormenes or Telmarines.

"I'm not entirely useless," Edmund said, lowering his voice significantly and throwing a dark look after Orieus.

"I never said you were," Peter responded quietly, clenching his fists and silently begging Aslan for patience. _But really, isn't patience supposed to be Edmund's domain and not mine? Temper is mine, not that he doesn't have one, but this is a damnably inconvenient time for our roles to reverse!_

"Stop it!" Edmund said crossly, interrupting Peter's frustrated musings. He had crossed his arms and somehow managed to look even more petulant than he had previously; if Peter hadn't been so entirely frustrated by the whole situation he might have been genuinely amused. "I'm entitled to lose my temper when you are being idiotically over protective!" As usual he had correctly guessed what his older brother was thinking and, as usual, Peter found it rather infuriating.

"Ed, be reasonable. You can't get within ten feet of a giant without panicking and I'm fairly certain our position is precarious enough without them discovering one of us is absolutely terrified of them!" He regretted the necessity of stating the truth quite so plainly, but if Edmund insisted on being stubborn there was nothing else for it.

The fierce glare on his brother's face faded somewhat and was replaced by a somehow empty look that Peter liked even less. "If I'm so incapable of being within ten feet of a giant then tell me, dear brother, how I managed to fight at your side so effectively until the army came. Or, for that matter how we managed to rescue Lucy. You may recall that it requires a certain degree of nearness to stab a giant in the foot repeatedly." His voice was dangerously low in contrast to his earlier shouting and Peter winced, almost wishing that the shouting had continued. His brother's temper he could deal with effectively, but he had yet to meet anyone who could outwit Edmund when he became as dangerously calm and cold as he was now.

"Ed-" But Edmund held up a hand, effectively stopping whatever half formed protest Peter found himself about to make.

"It is my duty as king to assist you in presiding over meetings such as these, and you have no right to tell me otherwise, High King or no."

 _He's right and he knows it,_ Peter thought heavily. Being a High King, it turned out, had very little to do with Peter getting his own way and altogether more to do with reluctantly agreeing to compromise with the other three crowned monarchs, and (on occasion when he was very cross) Orieus. Being High King meant in no way that Peter could overrule his siblings entirely, or even enough to keep them from fulfilling their own duties and he knew it. That was the very reason he had tried to keep the meeting from Edmund in the first place. _And if I'm not very much mistaken, I have that fool Linus to thank for this fine mess._

"Alright," Peter conceded with a sigh. "You've made your point, but if I have any reason to fear for your safety or to believe your continued presence will endanger Narnia, I will happily order Orieus to escort you back to your tent. Is that clear?" _Regrettably, being High King also involves a frustrating amount of admitting defeat while still trying to appear like I'm actually in charge._

Edmund grinned, all traces both of temper and the dangerously cold something that wasn't quite temper fading from his face as if they had never been there. "Clear as mud," Edmund said far more cheerfully than he had any right to.

"You seem to be feeling better," Peter observed, risking an attempt at making peace.

"I am," Edmund agreed helpfully, still grinning in victory. "Not quite like myself," he added more soberly after a moment. "But less likely to shatter into a million pieces. So, where are we supposed to be meeting these giants?"

"Here, and apparently now." Peter scowled across the courtyard to where a few towering figures were beginning to detach themselves from the darker shapes of the buildings. "Orieus?" The Centaur was back at his side in an instant, looking vaguely amused by the conversation he had obviously overheard. "See that the guards are close by, will you? I hope these giants have the good sense to know when they are beaten, but I think we have taken quite enough chances already."

Orieus bowed slightly and withdrew, calling to a nearby cluster of Satyrs and Leopards as he did so; a moment later a contingent of dwarven archers jogged into view as well and took up their positions in a loose ring around the perimeter of the courtyard. Satisfied that if the giants attempted anything even remotely treacherous they would immediately be dealt with, Peter turned back towards his brother hoping he wouldn't find him pale and shaking.

For the most part he did not; true, Edmund's face had gone a shade whiter and his left hand was clenched around the hilt of his sword with enough force to turn his knuckles white, but he wasn't shaking and would have appeared perfectly calm to anyone who did not know him.

Peter felt his own hands clench into fists as he watched the Creatures who shuffled towards them in a disorderly line. These were the brutes who had attacked his family, threatened his kingdom, conspired with a witch, and nearly taken everything from him. Unconsciously he lowered his own hand to Rhindon's hilt as he felt his jaw clench in a snarl. He had expected to be angry when facing the brutes who had lured them into a deadly trap with promises of friendship; what he hadn't expected was the wave of pure, unbridled hate that swept through him blurring his vision and setting his blood on fire.

"Uh, Peter? You did promise not to behead anyone, right?" Derisive and slightly desperate, the low query cut through his quickly rising rage and Peter blinked, looking over in surprise. Edmund was smiling, quietly reassuring despite his pallor and the haunted expression lurking in his eyes, and Peter relaxed slightly, unclenching his jaw and letting his hand drop from Rhindon's hilt.

"No," he said quietly, trying to match his brother's smile. "I don't think I did." But before Edmund could respond, the giants had reached them and a different sort of battle was joined.

The first giant, who seemed to be the self-appointed leader of the group bowed deeply, though in doing so he still managed to tower above Peter and Edmund, and dropped to one knee before them.

"Good kings," he said, keeping his head inclined respectfully but not quite managing to hide the venom in his tone. "We have come as you requested and wish to make our own requests of you if we do not inconvenience you too much in doing so."

Peter bit back an angry retort with difficulty. _Put aside Peter Pevensie; become the High King,_ he reminded himself sternly. "We thank you for attending us so promptly. We shall attempt to make this meeting brief enough that it will not become burdensome." He paused and looked expectantly at the giant.

The giant appeared rather flustered and glanced quickly between the two kings, obviously uncertain if the "we" Peter used was being employed in its royal sense or was simply referring to both kings. Peter couldn't quite suppress a self-satisfied smile at the giant's discomfort, though he didn't need to see Edmund's expression to know his brother was silently scolding him for allowing his personal feelings to cloud his manners.

"Your majesty," said the giant at last-obviously deciding that Peter had meant the troublesome pronoun in its royal sense and proceeding to ignore Edmund entirely. "We, that is to say my fellows and I, are grateful for the chance to address you freely and discuss the terms of our surrender."

Peter drew himself up to his full height-still feeling rather dwarfed by the giants before him-and allowed himself a moment to gather his courage before speaking. "There will be no terms," he said clearly, letting the words ring out in the otherwise silent courtyard. "We are prepared to accept nothing save your absolute and unconditional surrender. Should you refuse you will find it well within both our rights and power to remain encamped in this city until such time as you accept the hopeless nature of your position."

There was stunned silence for a moment-even Edmund seemed shocked-before the giant laughed nervously and twisted his hands together. "Surely your majesty cannot be serious! You are in our country, surrounded by our people-"

"And you were in your own city, surrounded by your impenetrable gates and walls and protected by your King and his Witch," said Edmund quietly, stepping forward to Peter's side without a hint of the panic Peter had feared would grip him in the presence of the giants. "Tell me, good sir, what has become of your walls, your gates, your fortress, your King and your Witch? Your walls and gates could not stand before the Lion's roar, nor could your King, your Witch and your guards stand before His wrath and ours."

The giant wrung his hands and twisted his face into a grimace of displeasure, but there was no arguing the truth of Edmund's words. He bowed his head in defeat though his words still dripped with ill-concealed hatred when he made his response. "Very well, your majesties. But hear now our request of you; leave this city by nightfall and do not dare set foot here again. You may have bested us through trickery and the aid of your accursed Lion, but if you remain here one day longer it will mean your deaths. We surrender to you now, but if ever we meet your kind again we shall deal harshly with them from the first, in recompense for what you have taken from us."

Peter briefly remembered that he had not, in fact promised not to behead anyone and was sorely tempted to draw his sword and hack off the head of the giant then and there. But, after all, it wouldn't be particularly sportsmanlike or kingly to behead a foe who had just surrendered-even if the surrender was followed by dire threats and outrageous promises of revenge.

"We will withdraw from this city with a good will." He surprised himself by speaking with at least a shred of civility. "We have no desire to tarry longer than is necessary within these-" For a moment Peter found himself at rather a loss for words. _I can't exactly say walls, now can I?_ He felt an absurd desire to laugh and bit his tongue sharply to stifle the impulse. "Within the confines of a city that has been so blatantly treacherous towards us from the first. I can assure you that we, and our armies, will be gone by nightfall. I bid you a good day."

The giant stood stiffly and, beckoning to his companions, stalked away through the houses. Peter felt a smile spread across his face; he had expected the encounter to be a far more unpleasant and lengthy ordeal.

"Well," he said cheerfully, turning to Edmund. "That went rather well."

Edmund seemed to disagree as his knees suddenly buckled and he dropped down onto the paving stones, his face a rather alarming shade of green. Peter dropped to his knees beside him, cursing silently and put an arm around his shoulders. "Ed, it's alright; they're gone." _And you're a bloody fool!_ He added silently and fiercely. "We're going home; it's over."

Edmund surprised him by laughing shakily and burying his face against his shoulder. "Good," he said, voice slightly muffled. "Because I never want to speak to another giant again."

"And you wouldn't have needed to if you hadn't insisted on being stubborn!" Peter couldn't quite resist scolding him, even if he was secretly proud of how Edmund had handled the entire situation. The giants would never know how frightened he had been, and Peter certainly wasn't going to tell them. He pulled Edmund to his feet and was relieved when Edmund managed a shaky smile. "Alright, brother?" he asked lightly, fully expecting the answer to be a dishonest proclamation of well-being.

Once again Edmund surprised him by grinning and shaking his head. "No," he admitted quietly. "But I think I will be, someday."

 **Hopefully you all enjoyed that chapter despite its lack of action; I always find chapters like this rather annoying to write but they are unfortunately necessary. Please do let me know what you thought and also what you still feel needs to be resolved. I have part of the next chapter written but it is rather short and quite probably the last one, so if you have anything you feel should be included do feel free to tell me :-)**

 **Thank you for reading and reviewing and as always I would like to especially thank my wonderful beta reader PaintingMusic14!**

 **Cheers,**

 **A**


	23. When Aslan Comes in Sight

**A few remaining plot lines are tied up here, and yes, there is a ridiculous amount of fluff, a cameo appearance by Linus, and an instance of Peter being everyone's favourite pillow. I hope you all enjoy this last chapter :-)**

They left Harfang as quickly as was possible, managing through a rather impressive amount of shouting and tactical maneuvering on Orieus' part to vacate the city by the agreed upon time

"Do you think it's actually over?" Peter asked quietly, looking back across the snow covered plain to where the distant spires of the city showed faintly against the darkening sky.

Beside him, Edmund too turned back, looking more through the city than at it, shaking his head slowly. "We burned their castle, killed their king, waged war on them in the streets of their own city and, as far as they know, murdered their queen and the heir apparent to their throne. I don't think it will ever be over."

"And what of their crimes? The murder of good Narnians, the lies and treachery?"

Edmund shrugged as Philip turned his head homeward. "That, brother, is for Aslan to judge, not us."

 _And what of the crimes committed against us personally? Surely those are ours to judge._ But Peter sensed now was not the time to raise that particular question, and he too turned his horse's head towards the South.

The presence of the army slowed their homeward progress a great deal, but it was still a far easier journey than it had been coming to the giants' city. The impressive show of force the army provided had dissuaded the giants of Ettinsmoor from troubling them as they had previously, and despite the lateness of the season they had still managed to avoid the worst of the winter blizzards.

When at last they crested the final hill in their homeward journey and Cair Paravel lay before them, shining and peaceful at the edge of the sea, Peter thought he had never seen anything more beautiful. He looked over at his sisters, smiling and laughing as they raced down the hill for home, and smiled to himself. Edmund snorted quietly in amusement from his place on Philip's back, and Peter was relieved to see that he was smiling and looking far better than he had in weeks-no, months.

"Why did we ever leave?" Peter wondered quietly, not really expecting an answer.

"Either because we were behaving idiotically or because we were doing our duties as rulers," Edmund offered helpfully. "Either way it is good to be back. Race you there?" Philip sprang forward without a moment's warning and was halfway down the hill before Peter had the presence of mind to urge his own horse forward. Edmund let him catch up before they reached the gates, with Lucy and Susan had also slowed their mounts to wait. Together the four of them dismounted and walked the last few paces through the gates with their arms intertwined.

* * *

Trebonius was quite certain that (had he been human) his knees would have been knocking together as he bowed before the imposing dais and the four thrones of his monarchs. As it was, his hooves were making an extremely annoying clacking sound as they skittered across the polished floor and he would have given anything to be anywhere else.

"Captain Trebonius," the High King acknowledged with a slight inclination of his head; the other three remained silent and grave. "What is it you wish to ask of us?"

The kings and queens customarily held a formal audience once every fortnight for the addressing of grievances and to offer an opportunity for their subjects to present them with various petitions. It was before such an assembly that Trebonius now stood, trembling and miserable.

"Captain?" The High King was addressing him again and though his voice was as calm as ever the satyr saw a flash of annoyance cross his face. Queen Susan shifted slightly, smoothing away an invisible wrinkle from the fabric of her gown, and King Edmund's fingers drummed a steady rhythm against the polished marble of his throne. The audience hall was packed due to their long absence, and Trebonius had been standing there speechless for a good two minutes.

"I-your majesties, I wish-I stand accused of treason, your esteemed majesties, and wish to surrender myself to your judgement." King Edmund's fingers halted in midair as he stared down at Trebonius in shock.

"Treason?" The High King's brow furrowed in a frown, and Queen Lucy could not quite stifle a quiet gasp of surprise. The High King stood and beckoned Orieus forward to his side. "Orieus, stay if you would; the rest of you are dismissed until such a time as this matter is resolved."

No one dared argue; there were very few words that could clear the Great Hall more swiftly than the mere mention of treason. Trebonius knelt awkwardly and waited for the various footsteps to die away as the crowd dispersed with a few murmurs and doubtless numerous glances of a distrustful nature in his direction.

"Now then," the High King said sternly when Trebonius and Orieus were the only two left in the room with the monarchs. "As no one has come forward to accuse you, perhaps you would like to explain your behaviour?"

"You are right, lord king, no one has accused me; therefore, I must accuse myself. I did knowingly, and with murderous intent, attack King Edmund, putting both him and the Queen Susan in no little danger. Not only was this behaviour inexcusable and treacherous, but it was also in direct contradiction with my vow to protect your majesties." He stared resolutely at the floor, refusing to waver now in his determination to seek justice. After all, it was his fault; he had failed miserably to protect his sovereigns from the very beginning and in the end had attacked them.

"Well," said the High King quietly. "King Edmund, Queen Susan, does this noble satyr speak truly?"

"He does speak the truth, but in part only. It was not by his will, but by the will of the Green Lady that he attacked us." Queen Susan's reputation for gentleness and grace was well earned, and even though he did not dare look up, Trebonius could hear the distress in her voice.

King Edmund said nothing, and Trebonius knew that surely he at least would not hesitate. Justice must be swift and fierce, and King Edmund was nothing if not just.

"Well?" repeated the High King, a trace of impatience colouring his voice. "What say you, brother?"

"Our noble sister speaks the truth. What was done was not done out of malice towards us, but caused by the Lady's enchantment." There was something very odd in his voice-something that sounded remarkably like sympathy-and Trebonius wondered at it.

"And you, good satyr? You have freely confessed though no one has accused you; do you wish to be tried before a jury of your peers?"

"No, lord king. I am content to accept the judgement of Aslan's chosen."

"Peter! You wouldn't!" That would be Queen Lucy, ever eager to leap to the defense of her subjects, even those who had proven themselves unworthy of the affection she seemed to hold for the entire kingdom.

"Lucy-" Queen Susan's voice was low and held a note of warning, but the younger queen did not heed it.

"He hasn't done anything wrong; not really! Peter, the penalty for treason is death!" The note of horror in Queen Lucy's voice forced his eyes up from the marble floor for the first time and Trebonius was shocked to see tears shining in her eyes. _Hasn't she heard a word I've said?_

"I am well aware of the penalty for treason. Captain Trebonius, it is not my place, nor that of my sisters to pass judgement upon you. However, I do believe it is yours, King Edmund." Was he smiling now? Trebonius did not dare look up again to see.

He heard the click of the younger king's boots on the polished floor as Edmund rose and stepped forward. "So it is," he said quietly as the toes of his boots entered Trebonius' field of vision. "I have not forgotten the debt I owe you, Captain; without your aid I would have died with my guards in Harfang." The boots retreated. "High King, I cannot pass judgement upon one to whom I owe so great a debt." There was a rustle of fabric as King Edmund settled back into his seat.

"Then, as no one has accused you, and we can find no one to sentence you, it seems we must pardon you." Trebonius' jaw dropped at the quiet, certain statement.

"But-my lord king, surely you have misunderstood me! King Edmund, I tried to kill you!" In his confusion Trebonius found himself staring up at the faces of his rulers. The High King's expression was serious, but there was a dancing gleam in his eyes that looked suspiciously like amusement.

King Edmund raised an eyebrow at his outburst. "Really? I seem to recall a witch and her enchantment being responsible for your attack on me."

"Queen Susan, surely you cannot agree with this! You were forced to shoot me to save your royal brother's life!"

Queen Susan smiled radiantly. "I was forced to shoot a servant of a vile enchantress; it is clear to all present that you are no longer her servant and were never so willingly. You have my sincerest apologies for the injury I caused you."

It was no use, the four of them simply smiled kindly at him and would not be moved by his confused protests. "But I'm a traitor!" Trebonius insisted miserably. "Traitors deserve to die."

Something akin to pain flashed briefly across the High King's face and Queen Lucy, who had been kicking her heels against her throne, stilled suddenly. Queen Susan drew in her breath sharply and made a sudden movement as if she were about to stand before she thought better of it. Strangest of all was King Edmund's reaction; he smiled, though his eyes held a hint of sadness, and Trebonius had the strangest feeling that he was missing something.

"My good Captain, if all traitors-willing or unwilling-received the punishment they deserve many things in Narnia would not be as they are now. You are forgiven; think not on it any longer."

And what could he say in the face of such an order? He stood shakily, bowing with his eyes still fixed on the floor and shuffled away, confused thoughts spinning in his mind. Justice, in the days of the Witch, had never been tempered with mercy. It was a terribly foreign concept, but strangely comforting. _Think not on it._ But he had to, if only to remind himself of the kindness he had been shown and to strive, in any way he could, to repay it.

* * *

"That was interesting," Peter remarked, running a hand through his hair, regardless of how it knocked his crown askew.

"Indeed." Orieus, who had remained silent all the while, now stamped his hooves and glowered in the direction Trebonius had exited. "Just when I thought he could not possibly make himself appear more of a fool. Speaking of fools," he added darkly as a flash of grey fur bolted into the hall and Linus skidded to a halt, barking and panting in turns.

"Your majesties! It's Aslan! Aslan is here!" Whatever annoyance Peter felt vanished immediately at those words. _Aslan! At last. At least, if it isn't just Linus exaggerating and being fanciful as usual._

A moment later, everything else in the hall seemed to fade into the background, becoming very unimportant, for Aslan _was_ there. He stood in the doorway, outlined in golden light, and looked upon them with quiet love and welcome in His eyes.

Lucy-forgetting all her manners and the courtly behaviour Susan had spent the past weeks trying to make her remember-leapt to her feet and ran to Him, throwing her arms around His neck and burying her face in His mane. Susan curtsied beautifully, her face shining with quiet joy as Aslan touched His nose to her forehead and spoke softly to her. Peter could not hear what He said, and he somehow knew he was not meant to (the words were for Susan alone), but she smiled when she heard them and straightened her back as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

Then Aslan was turning towards him, and Peter found he could not bear to stand before the Lion. He dropped to his knees and stared at the polished marble of the floor. All his failings over the past few months rushed through his mind. Ignoring Edmund's warnings, allowing himself to be so easily influenced by the Green Lady, his harsh words and actions, and worse than all the rest, the knowledge of how deeply he had failed to protect those he loved. Then Aslan stepped forward and rested His nose on Peter's bowed head. "Well done," He said simply, his voice rumbling with the faintest hint of a purr, and inexplicably that was all Peter needed to hear. He felt his shoulders straighten and raised his head with a smile, feeling the weight of his acknowledged guilt lift from him.

Edmund, if it was possible, looked even more miserable than Peter had been and did not react at first when Aslan bent His head and spoke as softly to him as he had to Susan. For a moment Peter could see no change in his demeanor and felt a brief flash of worry, then Edmund leapt to his feet and threw his arms around the Lion's neck, much as Lucy had done, and buried his face in the sea of golden fur.

"Welcome home, my dear children." If Lions could smile than Aslan most certainly was doing so.

"Aslan?" Peter was not surprised when it was Susan who spoke first, sounding slightly anxious despite the peace of the Lion's presence. "We didn't do so very well. We made rather a mess of everything I'm afraid."

Aslan sighed, though the smile did not fade from His eyes. "It is true that you have made mistakes, such is the way of life, but more good may come of those mistakes than you yet know. Be at peace." And it was impossible to do anything but obey.

Much later, when grievances had been settled, petitions heard, and Aslan had quietly slipped away, Peter lay alone in his room and watched the snow fall silently through the inky blackness outside his window. It was difficult not to feel a little lonely; on the journey from Harfang he had grown used to one or more of siblings falling asleep on his shoulder, and now that they were back in Cair Paravel it was strange to be alone. Nevertheless, he had very nearly fallen asleep when the door burst open and Lucy slipped through it, pursued closely by Susan who was trying to drape a quilt around her younger sister's shoulders. Peter blinked sleepily, confused for a moment, before Lucy giggled and launched herself into the centre of the bed-quite effectively squashing the air from his lungs.

Still only half-awake, Peter smiled and wrapped an arm around her as she curled up next to him and burrowed her head into his shoulder. Susan sighed before giving up and perching at the foot of the bed in a much more dignified manner. A moment later the door creaked open again to admit Edmund, hair tousled and dragging a quilt. He elbowed Peter in the ribs lightly, curled up on the opposite side of the bed from Lucy, and fell asleep almost instantly.

"Susan, tell us a story," Lucy pleaded, despite the fact that her eyes were half closed already.

Susan, accustomed as she was to Lucy's nightly requests for stories, smiled and curled up next to her sister, propping her head up on one arm and smoothing Lucy's stubbornly messy hair with the other.

"Once upon a time there were four children…"

It might have been minutes or hours later when Peter opened his eyes to find the room filled with silvery moonlight. Aslan sat in the doorway, watching over them as they slept, and for a moment it seemed as if the soft light came from Him.

Susan had fallen asleep, head still pillowed against her arm, with her other hand resting lightly on Lucy's head. Edmund, peaceful for once, had thrown one arm over Peter's chest and was snoring faintly as he slept. Lucy smiled in her sleep, obviously dreaming of pleasant things, and mumbled a few indistinct words but did not wake.

 _Thank you,_ Peter thought fervently, meeting the Lion's eyes. _Thank you for my family._ And then he slept, as outside his door a steadfast satyr kept silent watch and a huge grey wolfhound snored softly.

 **That ending was so fluffy that it reminded me of cotton candy and made my teeth ache! I hope you have all enjoyed this story and I will continue to appreciate any reviews you leave even though it is now complete :-) (Hint: Reviews are the best!). Special thanks once again to my awesome beta reader PaintingMusic14 for all of her inspiring comments and help. (I really don't think this story would have presentable without her :-).)**

 **On an ending note there is still time to vote on which multi chapter you would like me to write next; the poll on my profile will be up until 17/11/2017. Why then? That's the end of the term YAY! Which means I will once again have time to focus on writing.**

 **Thank you all for reading and reviewing; I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. Until next time,**

 **Cheers,**

 **A**


	24. Poll Results and Story Preview

**Hi! No, this isn't an unexpected bonus chapter, but it isn't just a boring old announcement either** **. Since yesterday, at least, yesterday in my part of the world, was 17-11-2017 I am here to announce the winner of the poll some of you voted in. Well, technically it was a tie between two stories, but I decided to choose the one that was in the lead for the longest. If you voted for one of the other two choices don't worry; I plan to write all three of the proposed stories at some point and the poll was merely to determine which I worked on first.**

 **Therefore, it gives me great pleasure to announce that I have already begun working on a sea faring (partially at least), adventure (Narnian politics count as adventure as well, right?) story, involving Lone Islanders (droves!), and crazed suitors (not droves, but more than two).**

 **The working title for the story is currently "The Measure of a Sovereign", which is a reference to a quote from Plato. "The measure of a man is what he does with power." I am striving to make this story a more in depth look at the politics, traditions, and inhabitants of the Narnian world, though it will also contain a good amount of adventure, family fluff, humour, and less light-hearted content (this is me after all). It should be considered a loosely connected sequel to "The City Ruinous"-which essentially means, assume the events have occurred but they will be referenced only a few times. Due to the more in-depth nature of this story I will be taking longer on chapters and the chapters themselves will be longer, so expect the first chapter to arrive sometime in December. For a quick summary (no major spoilers), see my user profile.**

 **Since I cannot bear for my followers to get a chapter notification and only have a long announcement I have included a sneak preview for the first chapter-hot off the presses and straight back from my wonderful beta, PaintingMusic14. Hope you enjoy! Thank you for voting, and feel free to let me know what you think of this preview!**

 _Cair Paravel-The Sixth Day of the month Greenroof-Firstday_

"Your majesty?" Peter sighed and cautiously opened one eye to peer blearily over at the nervous dwarf who was hovering beside his chair. _Surely, I haven't been that cross,_ he thought, rather crossly, upon seeing the poor fellow's expression. In truth, he had been incredibly bad tempered since returning from his last Northern campaign with a broken ankle and a badly dislocated shoulder. Despite his foul mood at the prospect at being largely immobile for the better part of two months, he had stubbornly refused to allow Lucy to heal him with her cordial. A month into his enforced inactivity he was beginning to regret that decision, and his mood was steadily becoming more quarrelsome with each passing day.

"Your majesty?" the dwarf repeated timidly when Peter showed no signs of acknowledging him further. "A message arrived for you, your majesty; from the Lone Islands." He held out a roll of parchment sealed with the governor's official seal, and Peter sighed again.

"Thank you, Brickle. There's no use waiting for my reply." He hoped the dismissal was clear enough and was not sure who was more relieved, himself or the dwarf, when Brickle bowed quickly and hurried out of the room.

He broke the seal hastily and groaned when the parchment unfurled into what seemed doomed to be a very long and detailed report. The governor was a decent sort of chap, but he had a terrible habit of waxing poetic on all topics, from taxes to the price of ale in the local taverns. Edmund had once remarked that the Calormenes and their influence on the Islands were likely to blame for the flowery language displayed by the nobles, and Peter now found himself reluctantly inclined to agree.

 _Athelstan, by the gift of Aslan, by appointment and by birth, governor of the Lone Islands and Lord of Narrowhaven, to Peter, by the gift of Aslan, by election, by prescription, and by conquest, High King over all Kings in Narnia, Emperor of the Lone Islands and Lord of Cair Paravel, Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Lion; Greetings._

 _My dear and most noble king-_

Peter found himself tempted, not for the first time upon receiving correspondence from Athelstan, to throw the parchment into the nearest fire and have done with it. _Really, how much time must he waste on ridiculous greetings? I know my titles, and his, well enough that I do not need to be endlessly reminded of them._ He half considered hobbling to the library in search of his brother and forcing Edmund to read the missive, but it was still early enough in the day for him to be acutely aware how dangerous that particular course of action would prove. Edmund was likely to be more short tempered than he was himself until mid-day-or at the very least until his fifth mug of coffee. There was nothing for it; Peter leaned back more comfortably in his chair, glared at his ankle when it protested against the movement, and reluctantly turned his attention back to the letter.

 _My dear and most noble king, greetings in these dark times. As you may be aware from my past correspondence, the Council of Narrowhaven is proving unduly troublesome. Despite repeated pleas by me for their more reasonable behaviour, they continue to blatantly flout your royal decrees and my edicts, and are openly supporting a movement for a secession of these Islands from the lands of Narnia. I am certain I need not tell you how disastrous this would prove for both of us. The councilmen are likely to call for my execution, should they succeed in wresting my power from me by trickery or by military force, and I can but hope that this circumstance will prove as distasteful to you, most esteemed king, as it is to me._

 _High King, I beg your aid immediately though it shames me to do so. I can no longer hold these Islands or fulfill the capacity you have entrusted me with unless you render me such aid as shall best crush this talk of secession. I would beg your majesty dispatch some portion of your army with all haste, and perhaps it will not trouble you too much to attend the next Council meeting in person or at the very least to send your royal brother in your stead? I beg you receive these tidings with the utmost consideration of their serious nature._

 _I remain your ever-faithful servant and the faithful servant of Aslan and Aslan's great Father, The Emperor Over the Sea. May Aslan's Blessings be upon you and your noble family and all those who dwell in your fair land._

 _Signed, Athelstan, Governor of the Lone Islands and Lord of Narrowhaven._

He read the missive through once more to be certain he had not mistaken its meaning and sighed for what seemed the hundredth time that morning. Given the circumstances outlined in Athelstan's letter, it did not seem an overreaction for the governor to request his presence and he briefly considered the necessity of sending for Lucy and her cordial. But no, he had long since decreed that the cordial be saved for only the direst of circumstances-since no one knew how many drops the bottle held. It would not do for him to prove himself hypocritical merely to allay the inconvenience of his situation.

 _Besides,_ he reflected (slightly more smugly than the situation merited), _Edmund is the diplomat. I may as well send him as go myself, and by doing so I may spare myself the ordeal of dealing with Athelstan. In my current mood, I'm more likely to order his execution than I am to find a resolution to the situation. Unless…unless I can solve two problems simultaneously._ The sudden, inspired thought was enough to make him smile and nearly forget his ill mood.

"Brickle!" His ill mood returned somewhat when the dwarf in question did not immediately reappear. _Lion's Mane! Is it too much to ask for a servant who responds?_ "BRICKLE!" Yet still there was no response, and no ruddy faced dwarf rushed into the room. "BRI-"

"Did you need something, your majesty?" asked a somewhat harried sounding voice from the vicinity of the fireplace and Brickle tumbled into the grate, so covered in soot that even his bright red hair appeared dark.

"What the blazes were you doing in the chimney?" Peter demanded, forgetting for a moment the reason he had summoned the hapless servant.

Brickle had the good sense to look abashed and stared down at his filthy boots. "Cleaning, your majesty."

"Cleaning?" If Lucy had seen his expression at that moment she would have giggled and asked if his eyebrows were trying to escape from his face. "Without a brush, good cousin?" The unfortunate Brickle shuffled his feet and said nothing. "Perhaps you would be so good as to inform my spying brother that I require his presence. Send for Queen Lucy as well, if you would." Brickle bowed hurriedly and seemed about to bolt from room, but Peter couldn't quite resist calling after him. "Oh, and Brickle?"

"Yes, your majesty?" he mumbled miserably, tugging at his sooty beard.

"I would advise against telling King Edmund that you thought hiding in the chimney would be an effective method of keeping an eye on me." Despite his ill temper, Peter could not help being amused by the latest antics of Edmund's rather inept agent.

Brickle grinned, obviously relieved that Peter would not mention the details of his failure to Edmund, and gratefully backed out of the room, tracking a good bit of soot with him. Peter sighed, rubbing a hand across his eyes. Susan would doubtless be very displeased at the current state of his chambers, even if there had not now been a fine layer of soot covering the floor around the hearth and leading to the door. That meant servants with buckets and brooms and other various cleaning implements for him to trip over should he even attempt walking.

He glared at his ankle yet again and muttered an eloquent and heartfelt curse against the giant who had managed to injure him. There were few things that Peter hated more than being forced into a state of inactivity by an injury, especially one he felt was as trivial as a broken ankle.

Edmund arrived to hear the last few words of his phrase and raised his eyebrows sardonically, but wisely did not comment (he most certainly had no right to). He dropped gracefully into the chair opposite Peter, sighing in annoyance.

"Care to tell me why Brickle is covered in enough soot to block a chimney?" As far as morning conversations with Edmund went, this one was beginning better than Peter had hoped.

"I should have guessed he was one of yours," Peter remarked lightly, studiously avoiding answering the question. "Care to tell me why you find it necessary to spy on me?"

"I'm not spying on you, I am ensuring that you stay out of trouble and in your chambers where you belong." Despite his denial, Edmund looked distinctly annoyed at being caught.

 _Rather too annoyed to be believable,_ Peter thought with more than a little amusement. "I see. And to do so you saw it necessary to assign your most inept spy to watch me?"

Edmund grinned sheepishly. "I thought you might find it rather amusing. You are drearier than a Marsh-wiggle and more cross than a mountain giant when you're bored."

Peter had to admit it was an accurate assessment of his temperament, and it was true enough that Brickle's antics had proved amusing. He sighed in defeat and allowed himself to smile. Edmund seemed inordinately pleased by this response, and his face took on an expression which could only be described as gloating.

"As entertaining as this conversation is, I am assuming you didn't interrupt a Council meeting to talk about Brickle's inept methods of spying?"

 **Brickle may be my favourite original character to write, after Linus of course! :-) That is less than half of the first chapter, just enough to, hopefully, interest all of you!**

 **Cheers,**

 **A**


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